


Book Two Souls

by WhateversWorking



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Anal Sex, Angst, Childhood Memories, Codependency, Grief/Mourning, Love Triangles, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Out of Character, Pining, Sci-Fi Elements, Shinra/Izaya stuff is pretty background tbh, TW: For minor mentions of Suicide and Eating Disorders, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhateversWorking/pseuds/WhateversWorking
Summary: Shizuo never thought he'd see Izaya again. Years later their paths cross, and Shizuo is determined to figure out where it all went wrong, only to get involved in something much deeper than the both of them.(Alt Universe --- Shizuo and Izaya are Childhood Friends)
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya, Past Heiwajima Shizuo/Vorona, Past Kishitani Shinra/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Book Two Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the writings of Haruki Murakami and the Great Gatsby. First-Person POV Shizuo.
> 
> If you want more dumb Shizaya stuff watch [my yt vids :D](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4ZX_BMPdHr_s-kOpZTVv2A?view_as=subscriber)
> 
> Honestly, most of the initial idea was based on a dumb dream I had 2 years ago, and it doesn't follow the book very closely at all, so don't take this so seriously. I don't even know what I'm doing with this. I just wanted to play around with the idea of a romanticism and obsessive love. Like how someone can look through the past through rose-tinted glasses and grow disenchanted with it, but still retain that deep level of unhealthy obsession. 
> 
> I have to say though, I find it very hard to write Shizuo properly, and he doesn't strike me as much of a Nick Carraway so, I sort of challenged myself to write this entire fic in his perspective to see if I could convincingly portray his motivation and deep obsession while retaining as much of his original personality. I don’t think I did it very well, considering how chim many parts of this may sound. He can also be difficult because canon Shizuo has such a unique way of thinking I feel like it almost eludes words entirely and I’m never really satisfied with what comes out. 
> 
> Izaya, I think, fits the green light at the end of the dock.

* * *

_**"Gatsby turned out all right in the end;**  
 **it is what preyed on Gatsby,**  
 **what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that**  
 **temporarily closed out my interest**  
 **in the abortive sorrows and**  
 **short-winded elations of men."**  
_   
**\- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby**

* * *

The best relationships feel more like an exaggerated version of a close friendship. And even this limited word makes it truly hard to articulate the right words for this inexplicable rush of feeling we get around other people sometimes. In this contained friendship, it doesn’t feel like it matters whether the relationship becomes properly romantic, because no matter what it feels like it already is. And while a close friendship might make you a better person, the person who brings out the best in you can almost always bring out the worst you have to offer.

Everybody has a person in their life who they will feel an immediate, almost spellbinding attraction towards. And if you don’t hold onto that, you will one day lose that person.

Or at least, that’s what I have come to believe over the course of my life. Losing that person does not necessarily mean that they’ve died, or disappeared or whatever, it just means that they have gone to a place where you can no longer reach them, where you can no longer find the same comfort or stability that you once had. And you look at them, and you think: What happened? But what you fail to realise is that they’ve been looking at you the exact same way. And it’s this inability to see this that drives the wedge even further before you can bridge it.

Years later, you see them again. It’s weird, because, how rare is it to see someone who has been cut out of your life so effortlessly that you’d never thought you would even hear about them again? But when you do, it hits you – _holy shit! We’ve both grown up._ And suddenly, things get clearer, tense interactions make more sense, and you start chasing this, this idea again. 

There’s someone for all of us, but the moment when you lose that person is the loneliest feeling in the world. But when you get them back, it’s pure bliss. At least, that’s what I’ve come to believe.

* * *

Lunch was the only relief from what was otherwise a dreary job. It’s the only part of the day where I could actually rest while being with people I liked. As usual, it was just the three of us – me, Tom and Vorona. Vorona and I were quiet and introverted people, so it was usually up to Tom to fill in the gaps.

“ – lately there’s been rising tensions among the streets. So you know, the press say that sooner or later there might even be mandated curfews, can you imagine – “

I kept floating in and out of conversation so I just continued to nod. Vorona watched on, silently absorbing whatever he said but intently paying attention. I was trying to listen too, but no matter how much I tried nothing went into my head. And while that was not really new, that time I had a different reason. The whole day I felt really disturbed and on edge. This tingling feeling moved at a snail’s pace, starting as a prick in the neck around two weeks ago and steadily creeped to its climax.

Annoying. Was what I thought. It’s like having those buzzing sounds you’d hear at random discretely being dialled up until it’s blasting all around you and your eardrums burst. To be frank, I always had this problem. If asked, I would say my greatest weakness was being socially inept or flat out disliking most of the human population. My greatest strength would be my intuition. And my greatest liability were my physical capabilities, which seemed to know no human bounds. It was, to be very frank, annoying.

I possessed a strong intuition for misfortune and mayhem ever since I was a child. If we were going out my family would usually ask if anything bad would happen, often it was just bad weather, but sometimes it could be even worse, like an accident that occurred on the freeway. As I grew up more people seemed to realise this quality of mine. Now, co-workers would look to me to see if anything would go wrong. It was not as if I could actually know what was going to happen for certain, like if a piece of concrete would slap someone in the back or if there was a malfunctioned crane and so on. But it was a simple enough rule: If Shizuo sensed something off, misfortune was sure to follow. I felt like one of those canaries in the saying, where they bring them down to the mines: trapped and used. However, I’ve been told by Tom and Vorona that this was an invaluable skillset and something to be admired. To me, it feels like a curse, like everywhere I go I’ll only ever be a bad omen.

I hated it, but it was necessary. Before some terrible event was about to occur, my whole body seemed to undergo some kind of lock-down survival instinct, and I knew, for sure this time, with that egregious feeling spreading throughout my being, that I would really come to hate this one.

A co-worker slapped something on my table, startling me as he clapped my shoulder. Glaring, I turned towards him, clenching my fists, gritting my teeth, I stalled all further movement and thought about anything else to stop myself from overreacting.

The co-worker, who didn’t realise the gravity of what could have happened, was a relatively normal guy, if slightly bothersome. His face was youthful and looked to be somewhere around his early-twenties. Actually he had probably barely crossed the threshold into twenty, with large upturned eyes that always made him look mischievous, but the brown of his eyes provided a humbleness that balanced it out. He also had a round, slightly crooked nose that gave his otherwise innocent face a rugged edge that spoke of some sort of violent encounter. He was still equipped with the tinge of youthful glow on his face; perfectly walking the line between young and mature. Would probably grow up to be a womaniser if he wasn’t already one. On his left ear was a silver piercing, and, just like me, his hair was bleached blonde, though unlike my unruly mane it stayed flat and fell straight on his head. Nothing about him was formal or very adult at all, and yet Tom always talked about how wise he was for his age, but he was eccentric like that – they all were, really.

And I guess I have always been attracted to eccentricity. Or maybe it was the other way around.

“Seems like we’ve got a special occasion everybody! Our main man here has got a _personal letter_ from someone.” He said to me in a teasing tone, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. Somehow, he was under the impression that we were close friends, despite the fact that I still could not recall his name. I think he thinks it’s some kind of inside joke – it really isn’t. Not to say I disliked him personally, just that names and faces were usually difficult for me, which was why I tried to pay special attention to them. He just never really got on my radar often. Although, considering most people were either fearful or looked down on me, I enjoyed the rare moments of positive attention I got.

“What? Why’s it delivered here?” Tom asked, midway through his ranting.

“My apartment is shit and tends to lose letters, it’s not usually a problem cause I never get personal letters but taxes on the other hand…” I explained while still trying to control my annoyance.

“Oh yeah, then what’s the occasion?” He looked astonished all the while I half-heartedly attempted to shove the other guy off.

“Hmmm, who knows? Someone he’s not willing to share about?” Said the overly-hyped kid, batting his eyelashes and leaning closer to me. Unwittingly, I glanced upwards. Vorona looked on with the slightest slant in her upturned eyebrows, offering sympathy. She knows how uncomfortable I get with close contact.

“I would suggest Masaomi-kun to release Shizuo-senpai at once, before he is forced to regret it.” She spoke in a manner similar to how a newsperson would recount the weather, and completely with a straight face, too, which probably made the promise of violence even more threatening, I really liked that about her, and the thought led me to wondering why we ended it together sometimes. I often viewed it as an act of cowardice from my part, and the inability to move beyond the past. Vorona called me senpai even though I was only a year her senior, though I guess I did the same to Tom. She had only arrived a few months prior to work here, but I still got along better with her than some people I’ve known for years.

However, Masaomi – that was his name, apparently, did not release his hold on me. In the end, I gave into my urges and finally shoved him off with greater force than I had intended when he started making odd faces and pantomiming lewdly, careful to restrain myself as I did so. Curiously, I picked the envelope up. The last time I saw a letter was from ages ago, my uncle had sent us one when my grandmother passed away.

The first thing that stood out to me was the handwriting. It looked familiar, like I had seen it many times but the full shape of which was blocked by a smoggy screen of unreliable memory. It struck me as very sophisticated, as if the person writing this was all caught up in their own wealth and status. The strokes of ink were quick but precise, curving slightly to the left. It seemed like whoever wrote this was in a hurry to get it out but was deeply ingrained with a _savoir faire_ that compelled them to be proper. Every straight line looked perfectly parallel and every curve slanted like the tranquil backwash of the waves retreating from the beach.

To my surprise, the letter was, indeed, addressed to me. There was no mistake, nothing on its surface other than a stamp and my formal name in the darkest black on the most blinding white.

Being careful to open it – because I didn’t like ruining pretty things – my colleagues and I waited in bated breath. Even Vorona, who never had the strongest reactions to anything, held a spark of curiosity in her eyes, a dangerous thirst for knowledge that was the core to her person. I didn’t mind them leaning in close this time, I was extremely guffawed as well.

Upon reading its contents I stood up abruptly, the ends of my metal chair scraping against the hard, stone floor, producing those ear-splittingly screechy noises that caused the entire cafeteria to double over and cover their ears in pain whilst others yelled at me to knock it off.

Quickly getting over her discomfort, Vorona retracted her hands from the side of her head. All the while maintaining that same straight-laced expression on her angular visage. She always kept her cool in whatever situation. I appreciated that level of self-discipline in a person, and likely, it was what initially attracted me to her. That calm.

“Senpai,” she said in that bit of broken monotone. Though most people still couldn’t tell she was Russian, just foreign. Her Japanese was just that good, unlike the big dark-skinned man who worked at Russia Sushi all those years ago back in Ikebukuro. I missed the taste of non-authentic sushi, and from time to time I wonder how he’s doing. “I deduce that the contents in that rare object have caused you great discomfort. Would you like me to terminate the object of dissatisfaction? If you would like, I am also able to track down the source and eliminate them as well.” A few tables away, several men shuddered in fear and some women side-eyed her, their gazes full of paranoia. It didn’t exactly help that she spoke and acted similarly to a robot. I didn’t appreciate their stares, and I made it very apparent, so they all turned back to whatever conversation they were having earlier.

I could not exactly blame them for being scared, though. Vorona could appear very intimidating, but she was pretty harmless so long as you didn’t get on her bad side. I liked it. She was young and quite innocent, mentally, despite her overwhelming intelligence that made me wonder why she ever chose such a low-paying job. Back when we were still dating, I treated her to ice cream when we ended early one day. After all that laborious work and we walked in comfortable silence for a while, I asked her why she chose to do this, when she could do so much better.

“That is equivalent to asking me as to why I am dating Shizuo-senpai right now. It is what I want to do, and I like it very much.” She said whilst taking a small lick of her strawberry ice cream, the artificial pink bright and inviting at the tip of her tongue, and for some reason I had found that whole experience very sexual. I leaned across to kiss her and we went back to mine afterwards, the slight flush never leaving both of our faces like a pair of first-time lovers.

There was a pure and unimpeachable quality that I admired about her, and I would not want her to lose that over me. I wouldn’t want anyone to lose anything over me.

Save but one person.

“Fucking put a leash on your boy toy!” The worst guy on our block, Horashi – Horada, fuck his name, yelled. Of course, being the spineless man that he was he immediately backed down when Vorona stared him down.

“Nevermind him. And, I’m good – not good. Just, shocked.”

And I was, more than shock, I was hit with an old torrent of bottled and bitter feelings. Once-dormant feelings that instantaneously rushed forward, alive and raging.

I searched the letter for any other details, pouring over every particle of dust on every line on every surface – anything. But it only contained these few words:

> _Heiwajima Shizuo,_
> 
> _It is with a heavy heart and under limited time that I am writing the contents of this letter. I am sure that you are as deeply shocked and saddened to hear of our dear friend, Kishitani Shinra’s untimely passing a week ago. Hereby, you are cordially invited to his funeral on the 2 nd of November to those who were dear and close to him for a final send off in the area near Raira in Ikebukuro. You’ll know where._
> 
> _May he rest with peace of mind._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> **_Orihara Izaya_**

At that point, I hadn’t heard from Izaya in ten years. Nor Shinra, for that matter. Nothing. And now, I find out that one is dead, and the other – well, I will never claim to have understood Izaya on any level, but from what I could tell in this letter, he seemed lifeless, secretive, and very urgent whilst trying to disguise it. Something did not sit well with me; the very existence of this letter was proof itself. The intimacy with which Izaya decided to deliver the message was the most concerning. There was no real need for handwritten mail anymore – unless you wanted to be cheap, which I assume, given Izaya’s status, that he was anything but. As I remember, Izaya was always a bit of a show-off. No one even really needed texting, really, unless someone else didn’t have the implants. Those were considered relics. These days, information could be sent with the blink of an eye – literally. All it required was a thought and a flash. I personally never trusted nor cared for having these features implanted within myself, but surely Izaya had, since it _was_ his company that revolutionised it. Why go through all this physical trouble when even an email would have sufficed.

This just made things more confusing and I was pulling my hair trying to understand it all. 

This letter didn’t sound like him. Izaya would never speak formally to me, and this letter was far too cryptic. Well, actually, this was very much like him, but it just didn’t _feel_ right. Was Izaya the coordinator of Shinra’s funeral? I knew that they worked together on some level, but were they that close? Could Izaya handle all that? And what was the cause of this untimely death? What had happened between those years of silence that could rip the fabric of all I understood of our lives so easily, split apart into chaos in a matter of seconds?

Too brief. This letter was too brief. The only reason people bothered with handwritten letters anymore was because of sentimentality, and Izaya was no romantic.

I had to leave at once.

"I have to go."

“Shizuo? O – Oi! Shizuo?!” Distantly, I heard Tom’s concerned voice, but already I was walking away.

…

At home, I remembered to check today’s date. October 31st. This letter was delivered on the fucking 25th, exactly one week ago – I was working with a very limited timeframe here! Surely, even if I hadn’t met them in so long I needed more time to grieve?

This was yet another reason why no one would even think of sending handwritten documents anymore. Services were poor and the industry was dying. In fact, I recall some article I had chanced upon about getting rid of these systems and replacing them with some integration of a mass communication device or something. Though I didn’t really care, I still felt slightly saddened by it. Remembering the last time I ever received something of this level from Izaya was a postcard from when he was vacationing in England back when we were still in high school. ( _“When you’re mad and you miss me lay back and think of England ;)”_ Looking back, he was really cheeky. I didn’t understand what it meant until I looked it up and got embarrassed, crumpling the postcard and feeling bad about ruining it afterwards.) He would usually spend his holidays overseas while I remained in Japan and liked to send lots of postcards over, probably to taunt me, but I was thankful that I had something to read when the loneliness got too suffocating.

At my shabby apartment, I hurried to pack my things. I sent a quick text to a concerned Tom briefly explaining the situation before he got too freaked out. He was used to my random bursts of impulsiveness and I was so thankful he was such a patient guy. In a haste to get to my bedroom, I accidentally ripped the door completely off its hinges – fucking flimsy shit. But I had no time to feel upset, I set that aside to fix when I got back. It was not the first time, anyway, and no one would be insane enough to rob my apartment.

It was only a couple of tense-filled minutes in this whirlwind of searching and stuffing things into my carry-on that I realised I hadn’t the slightest clue as to how long I would be staying there. I’m sure I wouldn’t lose my job, knowing how valuable they found me and how little they cared, I could probably leave up to a week and come back under a Leave of Absence and simply work overtime. But I could barely keep up with my rent, having to shamefully rely on my brother sometimes, and already feeling unwilling to part with a measly five thousand yen for the _koden,_ but I was raised to be respectful to the deceased. Trust Izaya to say the vaguest things and have me figure out the rest on my own. If Shinra weren’t dead, I might have thought he was making a fool out of me.

However, a part of me was rushing with excitement. It felt like a game again, like the ones we used to play as kids, small hours of hide-and-seek, chasing and fake mysteries to solve, some part of me thought that it had to be. Izaya was the only one back then who knew how much I wanted to be a detective growing up. Shinra probably knew too, and didn’t bother, but Izaya was always an enabler of false hopes and bad habits.

Soon as I thought that, however, guilt consumed me. Even if it had been years since I last interacted with him, I was not comfortable with Shinra’s death. Funerals were something that never crossed my mind, much less Shinra’s. The only thing that would be more shocking would be if it were Izaya’s funeral instead. I thought about it once, five years ago, but it didn’t feel as cathartic as I thought it would have been.

On the topic of funerals and untimely deaths, I found out soon enough that the closest thing I had to an ‘appropriate’ funeral attire I possessed would be my old bartending get-up from years ago when I used to switch between odd jobs to barely make ends meet. I considered phoning my brother to loan a suit or maybe ask Tom if he had one, but I felt so on edge – like I was already running out of time. So I decided to forego it. Can’t be helped, I guess. I quickly dusted it off and stuffed it into the pile, hoping that maybe I’ll be able to buy something more appropriate later on.

When all was dumped and done, I plunged myself face-first into my yellow-stained sheets, the edges of which were flaring from distress. I thought of the time where all this was a distant future, and we were all right, for a while. But that was then and this is now.

The ghosting of the curtains had my attention to the midday skies, it looked the same as that day, static and hot and wispy.

Shinra was close, and in a sense, he was the closest friend I had growing up because I knew him for so long. In many ways, he had saved me from a dark part within myself. He was the first friend that I had ever made and kept long-term, and he would go on to introduce me to my future tormentor and sweetheart, which till this day I can’t decide if it was the best or worst thing to ever happen to me. Shinra and I met when we were in pre-school, after I had thoroughly broken both my arms. I recalled him as a cheerful and ingenious young boy that came up to the trembling monster of a child and offered him a place of friendship. As might be expected from a kid who excitedly rushes up to make friends with the psycho child who nearly threw a desk at his classmate, over what I couldn't even remember anymore, I would later find out that he only did that for his own, selfish reasons, but he was there nonetheless. And I knew that was all that I deserved.

From there, I came to somewhat enjoy the time I spent with him. He was always smiles and chirps around everyone, there was no dampening his joy, and I came to begrudgingly like that company, even if he was a bit insane, even back then. He used to ask me creepily if he could just try to dissect me, and that line of questioning never really died down, no matter how much I threatened him to stop. Shinra also had this eccentric way of speaking and understanding. Far from being a smooth-talker but he could always manage to draw your attention if he so wanted to, radiating a sort of magnetic aura that ran counter to my repulsion of other people. Plus, he had an alright but nerdy face, a set of flesh-filled peachy cheeks and bright, intelligent brown eyes. If he had bothered to try harder with social groups and other people, he could have been more popular. As it stood, he didn’t – never – wanted to get involved with others.

“I’m not interested at all in other people.” He once told me when I asked. We were at the playground. I had unintentionally scared off all the other kids. He laid back against the merry-go-round while I lazily kicked us around, still managing to go faster than usual speeds. My feet tapped against the soft rubber flooring, (“It’s called EPDM safety flooring, it’s shock absorbing, so it’ll disperse the momentum of someone falling if you ever throw them high enough!” – Shinra, aged eight, excitedly, before he got whacked in the head by me.) slowing it down to stop the momentum from swinging him off.

“So I don’t really care if I never get noticed by normal people. The only thing I will pursuit with my all is Science!” He exclaimed, arms spread out from his chest into a half-circle as he kept going. “Science is the only truth in this world, that makes it the purest thing in the world, and therefore the only thing that has my heart!”

We were eight.

“How come?” I asked, put-off by such a thought-provoking answer.

Shinra remained silent, bright eyes sparkling ahead, staring up at the pale blue sky filled with lines of clouds that were rapidly disappearing, like those kinds that were left when the planes flew by. It kinda resembles a motherboard, I heard him mumble to himself.

“I don’t know.” He said, reaching up. Then he changed his demeanour and faced me with a blank smile. “I don’t feel anything, really.”

And I nodded even though I could never relate to that. Be it a Saturday, a hot day, a school day, or any day, I have never felt ambivalent about anything. I will always feel strongly about everything, and even my boredom manifested in waves that came crashing into me, and these strong emotions, more often than not, erupted at those around me. It couldn’t be helped – it really couldn’t. It was why I now appreciated my simple blue-collar job as a roof tiler and quasi-construction worker more than whatever white-collar job I might have been able to get had I actually finished university. White got stained too easily by everything else.

It was in elementary school where I first met Izaya, sharp and all. We were ten. To date, this is my clearest memory of any event in my life, ever. It was the start of the new year, indicated by the pale pink of the cherry blossoms falling – fallen, and Shinra and I were walking to our new classroom early because I hated the bustling crowds of students at the bottleneck that was the school gates. With the constant pushing and shovelling of sweaty kids that had delicate bones – I learnt that the hard way – driving me mad. Throughout our walk to school, the chilling breeze kept biting at my neck. We were the first to arrive into the slightly bigger classroom, and took our seats at the very back, closest to the shelves and door, farthest away from the still-messy blackboard and heavy projector. Or at least, we thought we were the first. Until I saw, huddled at the corner atop the side row of shelves was a tiny boy in our uniform, chin-on-hand and staring intently out the window. His dark form was framed by the pink and blue lighting outdoors. He was so caught up in gazing at _something_ beyond the glass that he never registered our entering.

Shinra, ever the friendlier associate, decided to pounce on him as a greeting.

That memory of his wide-eyed shock stained like blood inside my consciousness, to the point when even without thinking I could pull every detail out from it. It was just one of those things.

_He should eat more…he’s kinda small and so pale…hey, he kind of looks like, ahhhhh what is it again that mom’s always praising Kasuka for eating and saying I should have more of…_

The boy was still struggling to get Shinra to stop yammering away enough to shove him off, his red eyes lit up in interest but his face was becoming a bit green. _From what? Is he getting sick just talking to Shinra? Makes sense I guess…_

 _Looks like a pale green…_ my eyes snapped open. _Ah! A beansprout!_

Before I had too much time to be proud of my discovery, he had managed to push Shinra off and already fled, leaving no trace of his presence except for the slight odour of something fragrant lingering in the air. All of a sudden, the curtains seemed to sway a little less, as if he took the wind with him.

From that day, he and Shinra were ‘friends’ in the barest definition of the word. He probably wouldn't admit it himself but most people would still consider them close, at least compared to the other people he surrounded himself with. I don’t think I counted in just yet. Shinra would pester him day-to-day, and I would simply tag along. Partly because I was curious about this boy myself, and partly because I had no one else that would want me around.

Really, I didn’t know why Shinra was so fixated on him, but I thought it was a good development from his previous fixation on _me_. But I was being hypocritical, because I couldn’t help myself but be preoccupied with him too. The beansprout struck me as very lonely, even back then, just like how Shinra and I were. And I mean, it was harmless, the things we (Shinra) did. Just casual calls to join us during lunch or sit next to us in group works. It was almost forgettable, but then, the other boy would pause and always stare back, looking the tiniest bit dazed, then puff up his chest and stalk away to someone else. It was a different person every day. I thought it was plainly obvious that he wanted to sit in but felt like he shouldn’t want to, and resented him a bit for being so rude. I wonder if that’s changed any more since I last saw him, his attitude. Definitely not.

Nevertheless, Shinra did not give up so easily. He persisted through another gruelling six months. Finally, during Fall, Beansprout (as I kept in my head back then because I never quite got his name) had abruptly plopped himself next to us for lunch. He sat casually and poked at his meal a bit, complaining that after getting bored talking with everyone else he had no other choice left, explained in length about how Shinra was too annoying with no concept of personal space, to which I silently agreed. Though I could see he was lying about his general annoyance, because the tips of his ears were a bit red and the pure delight of the glint in his eyes when he spoke to Shinra was never the same as when he was talking to other people. I thought he was being a bit much, even back then.

“Liar.” I said without much thought, too busy munching on some rice balls. The bento boxes my mother made always overflowed with sweet, white rice.

“Excuse me?” He spoke too sharp and clearly for any normal ten-year-old, and narrowed his eyes until they were no more than red slits.

“You’re lying, you do wanna be here.” I said. It was so obvious.

“Really!” Shinra chimed in.

Izaya started, and I could sense his body prickling in all manners of defence. It was actually kind of funny. “What makes you think so?” He snapped.

Shrugging, I set down my lunch and faced him properly. “Cause. Throughout the past week you’ve just been talking to other people without really talking, just to make a point to Shinra. And now you’re actually here, and anyone would be able to tell you were just trynna’ act cool so you wouldn’t sound like you care. I mean, you don’t have to be embarrassed, you know, just no need to be so rude about it, beansprout.” I hadn’t realised I said that last part until I did. I just thought he looked a little skinny, is all.

Shinra couldn’t stop laughing at the side as the boy bristled in anger, and for a startling second, I caught him glowering at me, red eyes glowing taut against the air, and I thought he was about to attack me. It felt weird being on the opposite side of an attack. That split second didn’t give my young self nearly enough time to prepare, which was a first. But I really didn’t want to fight – I was doing so well in this new year already. Luckily, I didn’t need to bother. He calmed down just as quickly as he got angry and smiled widely, which I thought was too cutting on his youthful face

“Well, my name is Orihara Izaya, nice to meet you too, _Shizu-chan_ , was it? I think we’ll be having a lot of fun together.”

And I think there was an edge there, a promise. I talked a lot that day, the first time I truly opened myself up to other people, I feel. Sure, I had Kasuka at home who I loved and talked to daily, but neither of us were exactly the talkative type, which was okay when I just wanted to relax and cool down. The whole time I could sense a shift in his focus, as I felt his eyes on me instead of Shinra, searing into my skin as though he was trying to solve a particularly difficult question. It was the sort of attention that captivated the observed as much as the observer. Izaya had ways of drawing words out of people. Like, if you mentioned something offhandedly because you didn’t think it was all that important, he would find a way to circle back to that and pull out another story from it. Then, even if you forgot the original story you were on, he would know exactly where you left off and could recount it better than you could, sometimes even guessing the end of it. This ability to keep track of so many things going on at once creeped me out in the same way Shinra could spew off scientific babble all day. But his mysterious demeanour was a bit more alluring to most other people than Shinra and I, and it could be switched on and off at will. Most of the time, it felt bothersome and intrusive, the level of detail he called for, but I liked being able to actually speak about things for once. Shinra was good at talking himself, but only about the things he wanted to talk about – and we really didn’t have much in common. Too often, it was impossible to get a word in.

Izaya ran counter to this self-absorbed perspective in that he loved listening to other people. That didn’t really mean that he wasn’t selfish when it came to matters concerning himself. He really did like talking too, after all, but more often than not he would rather hear someone else speaking about themselves as opposed to talking about himself too much. I could never find out what he was thinking. Everything was simultaneously so muddled yet so clear with him.

Our friendship was odd, for sure, but actually pretty straightforward once one really thought about it. Shinra and I would be at our spot at the back of class and Izaya would always arrive five minutes after we got there, never earlier, never later, and he would spend more time speaking than he did eating. Mostly, it was Shinra and Izaya who talked, and I loved it, I really did. I wasn’t lonely anymore, and it was great. A few years later, once we reached high school, Kadota was included in this little group we had, meeting through Shinra’s biology club. In a sense, Shinra was the glue that held us all together. And when he had left to work with his father in another country, it was followed with Izaya’s disappearance, then Kadota’s departure, and once again, I found myself all alone.

I was unable to keep in touch with most of them. Kadota himself was a genuine pal, and he tried reaching out to me after we had all parted. Once in a blue moon, we would go out for drinks. Shinra and Izaya were like the wires of clouds in the sky. They got tangled, then faded away.

…

The following day, I boarded the first bullet train that would carry me my entire journey. Throat in mouth, I rested my head against the seat in front of me, thinking about how uncanny this all was. Here I was, speeding a couple hundreds of kilometres per hour away from home for the funeral of an old friend I didn’t really know anymore, and perhaps never really knew.

I kept watching as the lush green fields of land turned into the high-rise neon-at-night set up of a much denser and rowdier Tokyo, the Yolk of Japan, as people have been calling it recently. I thought it ironic that even in the winter, the landscape still looked so inviting. It was too beautiful – the sky was too blue, without a single thread of cloud.

This might have been where the grief finally settled in, nestling and festering like a parasitic leech. Shinra was dead. No part of my friend could be part of this world anymore. If I once thought that ten years was a painfully long time to not meet, then excruciating would not even begin to describe how long forever would be.

The only sound I could hear was the harsh rattling of the train as I fell asleep in sorrow and silence.

I dreamt of many things. I dreamt of meeting Izaya soon, but try as I might I could not recall any distinct features of his adult face, just red eyes in the dark that turned russet at times. I had seen him once or twice – in articles and hologram ads and the like, but I never got a proper look in because my heart would start throbbing. I stopped keeping up with news in general since he would crop up quite a bit, and most other news just made me disappointed or angry with the rest of society at large. For some reason, the dream of Izaya morphed into another dream that was not actually a dream.

Before I dropped out of university, there was this girl in my course. I recalled she was a bit on the larger side, only around half a head shorter than me – which was impressive since I am a solid 185cm – with large, heavy-rimmed glasses framing her face. She had committed suicide.

The only reason I knew this was because she didn’t leave a simple note for someone to find. More like a detailed entry of a person who felt so alone they needed to speak to everyone. In what was probably a last bid for attention, she had put this up online for anyone to be able to see:

> _A PSA,_
> 
> _The notion that “tears make people stronger” is just a pile of sophism, seemingly poignant and inspirational but utterly meaningless in the end. I have spent a large portion of these past few years crying my heart out (almost every day! That has to count for some sort of record, right?) and I can say with utmost certainty that I am not any stronger than I was a while ago. I might even say that I’m a whole lot weaker – scratch that, I know I am. Just look at all this._
> 
> _Ah, but that’s just depressing isn’t it? Girls shouldn’t talk like this, I know, but this girl has got nothing left to lose. So, please, I beg of you, take the time to read this failure’s regrets and listless, meaningless drivel. Perhaps in the end, some of you can derive a meaning out of what is, in essence, nothing. Did you like that, by the way? Me, begging? I bet some of you did. Ah, but maybe no one is listening to this right now. How could you? I am already dead. My voice is gone. I’m merely the Past, trying to speak beyond to the Future. Let me know if you get this, okay? It may be sad, it may not be. But just leave me a little offering regardless, okay? Hmm, perhaps Sadness is a bit too cliched, who isn’t sad in their lives? I didn't want to put it in because I think I might appear pitiful, but I already did. I’ve always been the biggest, most undetermined hypocrite I knew. I mean, just look at all this:_
> 
> _I’ve been obsessed with my looks this year – but I’m too scared to change._
> 
> _I’ve been obsessed with my academics this year – but I’m too afraid to try._
> 
> _I’ve been obsessed with relationships this past year – but I’m too cowardly to commit._
> 
> _Well, some parts of these are lies. They’ve all definitely been more than a year in the making. And even now, I can’t bring myself to mention some things. Well, it won’t matter._
> 
> _Oh! Just so we are clear, it’s not like I am blaming anyone for this. I believe that everyone, humans, animals, – whatever, we all end up wherever we do purely due to the choices we make. This is just another choice of someone choosing not to finish their work. Free will is alive and well!_
> 
> _\---_
> 
> _25/10_
> 
> _I’ve never felt so disgusting in my life than today. Truly, I feel so, so, so, so, so, so, gross and filthy and sweaty. I’ve cried my eyes and heart out, there’s mucus everywhere, my face hurts, and I’m just sitting on this rough and sharp pavement because home is too fucking close by. (Ah, damn, there goes my no swearing rule – just another failed commitment.) I’m so fucking disgusting. Both inside and out and all around, it’s truly as if I contaminate everything around me._
> 
> _I hate it._
> 
> _I’m just so ugly, inside and out._
> 
> _\---_
> 
> _26/10_
> 
> _(I cried again today, almost. Well, it was nothing. I always overreact.)_
> 
> _\---_
> 
> _30/10_
> 
> _(I cried yesterday, though. Really long and ugly and soft. I just found a photo album. It was lovely.)_
> 
> _\---_
> 
> _13/11_
> 
> _Interpersonal relationships are a subject of great conflict in my life. Not because there was a lack of one, God no, but because there were too many. Not that I don’t appreciate all of it, I really cherished them all. Friends and family. Even if sometimes it wasn’t great. Please, don’t mourn for me. That’s cowardly, and the only coward here is me. Truly, the hardest part of all this is that there are so many of these little relationships it's hard to keep track of what's important. Some were more harrowing in particular, but oh well, life has always been filled with missed opportunities. All I want to say to you is, genuinely, though I didn’t always show it enough, from the bottom of my heart – thank you, and I (do) love you._
> 
> _Of course, I won’t mention any names here. Are you crazy? Names are implications, and implications are complications. Unless it’s something so common that it’s basically meaningless – like, Ryu, or Haru, or Bob. Anyway, that would be a gateway for major harassment – because people talk, people gossip, and people make assumptions. And I absolutely detest inconveniencing those around me – I’ll haunt you and curse you if you mess with them – I swear! God or no. Those whom I treasure should know who they are, and if they don’t – I’m sorry. I haven’t shown it enough for you, but know that I do. Oh, I do so much. I feel like I hold on to as many people as I can to the point where there may as well be no one around me, because the pain of any one of them leaving was just too much to bear. I’ve always hated it when past friends slipped away because I couldn’t keep a tight enough grip on them – because after that, it’s always impossible to find them among all the millions of grains of sands. I never knew how to hold on properly, and it seems I never will. I’m sad? What is this feeling? I don’t know. I love you all._
> 
> _Then again, I’ve always thought I was a little – lacking in empathy. For some reason I was never able to tie life itself with any intrinsic value, be it my own or others. A horror story on the news is simply mild amusement for the day - but isn’t that everybody? Schadenfreude and all that. It is simply the case of not giving enough of a fuck, or wanting so badly to see that other people are suffering too, so you can remind yourself that you have it better. You don’t have the right to feel these things. You don’t have the right to suffer. You don’t have the right to be sad because in all honesty you are terrible and you have never ever deserved everything that you ever had. I once recalled a family member talking about the suicide of her friend’s friend’s mother’s whatever, and I simply didn’t feel anything. Or if I did, it was definitely something I wasn’t supposed to. Now, I’m going to be that someone’s friend’s friend’s mother’s whatever._
> 
> _Hey, hey! I’ll let you in on a little secret! Everyone’s selfish and only act within their self-interest. I’m selfish._ _This whole thing is selfish, but I want to pretend I can be some sort of martyr. I like feeling clean but I’m the nastiest person I know. When I like someone, I go out of my way to self-sabotage. I don't like taking chances because they take too long, but they take too long because I don't like them._
> 
> _One time, while out running at night, I tripped. I almost broke my ankle and I puked my lunch out after stumbling around agonisingly. It was a special day too, I’m not gonna say why though. I remember, my lunch consisted of miso and rice. I know because I could see it all clearly._
> 
> _I’m not exactly sure why this particular event would have made me puke, I would have thought all the food would have been digested by that point, or at least be unrecognisable,_ _but no. I could see every grain of disgusting, slobbery rice on the asphalt._ _The thing was, I didn’t feel sick - I felt so overwhelmingly accomplished. It was amazing! Do you know, I have tried for so, so, so many times to force myself to puke, the usual stuff; sticking fingers down the throat, a toothbrush, punching my stomach, running immediately after I ate. And that was the most accomplishing thing I did. I felt so happy, even though I was hurting so much I could cry. Isn’t that just pathetic? There’s so many of these little_ _things that make me happy. A weird one: head pats. I don’t know why but receiving them is, nice. There's a lot of other things that do too but they’re too embarrassing to write down - I’ll bet you’ll laugh - you will! And, as selfish as this is, I don't want my dying memory to be any more laughable than it already is._
> 
> _These things are so odd, they make me so happy in that fleeting moment. But then, I think of just how pathetic it was to be so happy by them, and I just feel like shit._
> 
> _\---_
> 
> _21/11_
> 
> _It’s my birthday in a bit, and I want it to be special. I want to return to the earth what I took from it. But a part of me is afraid I’ll be too cowardly to do it. That I will procrastinate it like I always do._
> 
> _\---_
> 
> _1/12_
> 
> _This is a final goodbye. With aching hands, I have summed up most things. It’s not everything I want to say, but everything I have to say. A tale for the time being, until it isn’t. When my body is laid bare and broken, please, I beg of you, just dump me on the ground somewhere and leave it to rot. Let the animals pick it bare, let it be left to decompose to dust – the way mother nature always intended, like how Diogenes died. I don’t like lavish ceremonies. Funerals and weddings, it’s all the same – just that one was black, and the other was white. In the end, someone’s still mourning. Quite frankly though, these ceremonies bore me. And the last thing I would want is for anyone to feel the same as I._
> 
> _May your days make your years! Goodbye!_

She had jumped off the roof that day.

I wasn’t there to witness it myself but, I don’t think some people ever fully recovered from seeing it. In the face of death, how was anyone supposed to react?

Her words always haunted me, even more so because she never signed her name in her letter. I always wondered if I made a mistake in reading it, I knew this girl was already dead, but since it was her last wish to be heard, I felt like it was a debt I needed to pay. But in the end, it felt too grotesque and personal, to watch someone spiral in that way. I couldn't even imagine how hard it would have been to see someone so close to you fall apart like that over the years.

Despite her wishes, the school held a memorial for her soon after. I didn’t go. I spent the whole day at home drowning myself in books of equal sadness because it felt wrong – I didn’t know her before all this, so going now would feel like cheapening her death, or just doing something for a stranger who simply died out of a stupid sense of obligation. I did visit her grave to offer flowers, though. Just to be respectful. After this whole thing was released, the school itself received critical backlash, and her suicide was spread everywhere online, and everyone was talking about it. The halls were filled to the brim with dark murmurs and hushed whispers. Just like that, she was alive again, for just a bit longer, but that itself had died too. And I had to wonder: What was the point?

...

My eyes shot open but I could barely see the seat in front of me.

It was pure darkness outside, save for the silvery blue moon that hung in the sky as if held by a thread, looking down on us all like one giant, luminescent eye. I shut my window. My stop would be in an hour, so I pulled out my little flip phone. It was an ancient model, but one I had nearing the end of high school. Everyone’s contacts were still there. I flipped it open and the old-school NebulaTech logo faded in and out. This thing was super old, and I had to wonder how it had managed to keep going, but apparently the tech company that developed it made it such that older versions could still interact with the implants in people’s systems now so that messages and calls could still be sent from old devices. That function was designed for traditional seniors who didn’t really want to get behind new generation devices, so that they wouldn’t feel so estranged from society, I guess. They probably never would have imagined that some twenty-seven-year-old would still be using this outdated system, too. According to an update alert, this function would no longer be available come the next winter.

To pass the time, I played an old game on it. My snake died when it ate its own tail, restarting an endless cycle.

After some time, a notification had popped up on screen. Weird.

Hopping out of the train, I hailed a cab to the address listed in the email. It was from Izaya, and the place was at an old, private hotel around the area close to Shinjuku, close to Raira. That’s not weird at all.

The location itself was nothing to marvel at. Entering the lobby, I saw that the place was posh, but depressing. Jewels that hung from every chandelier sparkled menacingly, couches and similar seating areas slumped with a sloppiness of the recently seated, and the pale-yellow wallpaper hanging off the walls were the colour of wilting sunflowers, looking like they wanted to peel themselves off the walls. Nervously, my feet headed towards the receptionist, who was sporting an equally hideous shade of piss-yellow blazer, her macchiato coloured hair was pulled back in a tight bun that did not aid in hiding her extremely large forehead, with a pointy nose that edged downwards, she calmly chewed on a pop of gum as she watched me approach with eyes like that of a hawk.

I cleared my throat, unsure. “I should have a room here for the night.”

She kept on chewing her gum, the sloshing and squishing grating to my ears, barely acknowledging me as she asked.

“Are you here for the funeral?”

“Yes.” I said.

“Proof of identification, please?”

“Huh?” I stared blankly.

“Your _invite,_ maybe?” She said with overwhelming exasperation. Hastily, I reached into my pockets. And reached again. I shuffled and overturned all my pockets, dug into the crevices of my luggage and still, I could not find it! But it was just here!

“But it was just here!” I exclaimed.

“No identification, no entry. You’ll have to leave.” She dismissed.

She started to turned away, and my stomach filled with cold water.

“Wait – no. I can’t just _leave_ , this is important to me.”

Rolling her eyes, she says, “Yes, I’m sure that this is very important and I feel deeply for your situation, but due to recent events our security measures have to be increased – “

“Like _fuck_ you feel for me, just _let me through!_ ” shouting, I could feel the control slowly strip away from myself as my body moved independently on its own. She was so fucking annoying, a cruel hawk watching from her safe branch afar. What kind of heartless bitch wouldn’t let a grieving man through? Why was I so irrevocably upset? Sensing an old rage seep down my spine and through my being, I gripped the glazed mahogany of the counter so hard it splintered into tiny sharp needles as cracks started to rip across the surface. Oh no, this was bad this was –

“Sir!” She shrieked in horror, blending into the ugly ass walls as she backed away. Already, I had forgotten what she looked like, just the fear that was ever-present lingered. “P, please! I – if you keep causing a scene I’ll have to call for – “

“Reiko-chan, please excuse our troublesome guest.”

The voice came from over my shoulder, and despite how fast I whipped my head around to confirm it, time felt as if it had slogged on in slow motion – just as things slowed down in movies – I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning all over again with this summer.

With a smile plastered on that round face of his, something that I always found ironic but humbling, he reached out to the lady in yellow who had slumped to the floor in fear. Always looking to be the hand that saves for those desperate few.

He looked a bit older and weary, not in a bad way, just that the bags under his eyes were the most prominent thing about his features. Gliding towards me with a look of great fondness, I noted that he wore an astoundingly simple black fur-lined hood that went all the way past his ankles. It didn’t make sense, nothing about this, and yet it all clicked into place. There he was. The stuff my dreams are made on. 

“Shizu-chan, I see the tides come and go but you never change.”

There was a time I believed that I would never see him again. Or at least, not as he had been. I thought it impossible, that somewhere far off into the future we would be able to meet once again despite everything, and that we could be fine. No, I always thought we were more like two people meant to see once, in a wave of turbulence and passion, and then that time would be over. And when I thought about it like that, I felt fine. Hollow, but fine. I think I was agitated at the thought of seeing him again from where we last left off, like if I did, it would expose some deep-rooted secret that I always had with me – that it would have been terrifying and painful.

I think I’m slowly coming to terms that that secret will stay with me forever. And walking alongside him, I was fine.

“Thanks.” I said, dragging heavy steps to my room. Izaya was beside me in unnatural silence, always thinking.

“It’s okay. It was pretty entertaining, the only light in my life these past few days.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course, my near breakdown would be delightful to him.

“Maybe from where you were standing.” I said, irate.

“Please,” he tsked. “it wasn’t that big of a deal, not like last time. Reiko was always a bit rude, and did you see how horrified she was? Priceless.” A smirk curled at the corner of his lips, and I was reminded of why I imagined him meeting his demise that one time years ago.

“It’s all a fucking joke with you, isn’t it?” I snapped. Self-restraint was never my strong point. “I’d like to see _you_ go through all that when you’re stressed from leaving work without so much as a word, because you just got invited to your childhood friend’s funeral and then being told you _can’t go._ Fuck, Izaya, after all that? All I could think about was how I felt like tearing that shitty gum from her mouth and ripping off those _fucking_ wallpapers and chandeliers because they look so goddamn _sad_ but I _can’t_ just hurt anyone when I’m mad!”

I finished, panting harshly in the low light. There was an animalistic quality to the way our forms met in the narrow hall, my lanky body appeared larger in its hunched over form, almost like I was trying to trap his slight frame. And I guess I was – to keep him from running away, because Izaya hated being yelled at. Was I being harsh? Yes. But did I feel like I was justified? Fuck yes.

Soon after I realised what we were doing, I backed down and looked away. We travelled on in an impenetrable silence, and I hated it. I hated _him_ , godammit. Ten fucking _years_ and this is all he has to say? I wanted to talk to him, I needed to talk to him. There were so many things left unsaid.

But I kept my mouth shut and so we edged on in these endless walls.

“You know,” Izaya spoke up from ahead. I jumped, not expecting him to break the stillness. “You could have just asked her to check whether your name was under a guess list, or something. Do you really think I’d be so dumb as to just use a _letter_ as identification. Unless you really are as thick as to not have brought along your I.C.”

Idiot. “I. I didn’t think.”

Izaya grinned impishly and spoke. “When have you ever?

I mirrored his grin with one of my own. It was like all the previous frustration simply vanished. “As far as you know, never.”

He followed me into my room, and I invited him to take a seat so that we could catch up on lost time. I wasn’t expecting it to lead to anything, necessarily. How could I? Given the circumstances, that would have been in bad taste.

During the process, I unpacked. He seemed to be more interested in looking at my personal belongings than looking at me, and in the process, he seemed to notice something, because he bothered to make his way over.

“Seriously?” He deadpanned, picking up my bartender outfit.

“It was the only thing I had,” I muttered sheepishly. “I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

He sighed, and this time it was his turn to roll his eyes, making his way to one of the couches at the side of the room. As if it would be too exhausting to unpack my utter and complete lack of social awareness. “I’ll have something sent over to you in the morning. _Seriously,_ Shizu-chan.” He huffed.

Settling comfortably into the chair, he propped his chin on his left hand and looked around, overly-interested in the wallpaper group that thank god was a deep blue colour. I couldn’t stand anymore yellow. I wouldn’t have expected that Damask wallpapers could have been all that intriguing, but I left him to it. He was nervous, that I knew, if not by his slight but anxious patting down of his coat, then just by intuition.

Since neither of us were really ready to say anything else yet, I went about unchanging from my outing clothes into a more comfortable plain t-shirt. I swear, I heard him gulp, but that could have just been false hope.

“So,” He said in a breathy manner. As if this whole encounter had knocked the wind out of him. I hope it did. “What have you been up to these past few years?”

I shifted around nervously, an unnatural shame swelling up in me as I wondered how to answer. What would he think? Even with my brother, I was not comfortable talking about my dead-end job. He and Izaya were up there mixing around with the very top of the social food chain while I lounged in the slums just trying to get by. At least with Kasuka, there was no expectations, and no way to disappoint him.

Izaya noticed my fidgeting and rolled his eyes. “Please, I’m not going to bite, Shizu-chan. I really couldn’t care less about whatever kind of job you have. I need a distraction right now, reality is kicking itself in and I want to forget about it for just a day. And anyway, you shouldn’t worry about your place in society too much, you’ve always been an outlier. It doesn’t matter what you do, you’ll stay afloat.”

It struck me that he was being dismissive, which usually meant that everything he said was genuine. Izaya seemed to catch onto his mistake as well.

“Besides,” He tacked on. “Ah, ‘lower-status’ work is something that I _do_ adore. There’s an aspect to them that remains very rooted in humanity, the social stigma, the hard labour, without people to take on those roles then humanity would have never prevailed as much as it has, I would say. Pity, that people who work on that level are almost always forgotten. You know, the whole ‘the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.”

Towards the end he had murmured the bits to himself. He had said something similar in our second year of knowing each other.

One time, some brat had deliberately thrown his food all over the floor during lunch time, all because he didn’t like what his maid packed for him that day, and the kid stubbornly refused to clean it up, and went on about how it was fine since it was the teacher’s job to take care of ‘lame’ things like this. I really liked our teacher at the time. She was a feeble-looking but warm person, with light brown hair that swept just past her chin. Whenever I couldn’t stand to be near Shinra or if Izaya was gone with some other group, she’d always let me just sit at her side and do what I wanted, because she knew from previous years that I didn’t get along well with other kids. Most of the time, I’d just be doing my homework, or reading. A few months before, when Izaya and I were more comfortable with hanging around each other without Shinra, I told him I wanted to be a detective when I grew up. And that twinkle in his eyes when he learnt something new appeared again. Since then, we would read some detective stories together, many of them being on a higher level than I could grasp at the time, but Izaya had the ability to convey the atmosphere very well. Still, Izaya was very well-read, and I wanted to be able to understand some of the things he said. Too often, when we talked, it felt like he was having a conversation with himself, and I hated that.

Sometimes, my teacher and I talked as well, and whenever possible, she’d always hand out sweets to me.

 _Shizuo-kun_ , she said to me. Her voice was soft and sweet, wafting through the air and flooding my senses. It was pacifying, and I put down the book I was reading and listened _. I noticed you’re getting better in class,_ her eyes twinkled _, I’m glad you’re learning how to be more behaved and social. I’ve always been worried about how stoic you act with anyone besides Kishitani-kun or Orihara-kun, but I know you’re just young. As much as possible, do be happy when you grow up._

She was my first crush.

Naturally then, I punched that insolent kid in the face, sending him flying back against three tables. Distantly, I heard someone scream. The sound of rushing feet consumed me as waves of students flurried past me to get away, parting where I stood. But it only amplified the pounding rhythm in my chest. It barred down harshly and pounded in the walls of my head, like someone was drumming to the palpitation I felt and using my brain as a _taiko_ drum. Amongst the crowd of other students and teachers that had rushed in as well, the most visible face was hers. She looked so disappointed.

Small hands pressed against his bruised cheek, their faces streaming with fat, bitter tears, distantly, the scattered sounds of “ _monster”_ registered in my mind. Everything eventually morphing into a whole sea of grey, amorphous faces that I tried desperately to keep out of mind. I looked to my own hands, astonished to see that they too, had specks of blood.

 _“You shouldn’t make a mess for others…”_ came my meek voice. _I didn’t mean to._

Their eyes flashed back at me, and like the madman drumming in my head, I felt similarly trapped by their piercing white gazes, full of fear and blame.

All the while, Izaya was there, watching as always.

Later, my pathetic hunched over form had fled to the football field, like a coward unable to face anyone. The rustling of the grass a few moments later told me that someone had sat down beside me.

“I must say, this was not the reaction I expected from someone who won a fight.”

Shamefully, I raised my head.

“That wasn’t winning, that wasn’t even _fighting._ ” I muttered. “That was bullying, and it’s cowardly.” My voice became even more muffled halfway through when I buried my face back into my arms, which felt sticky from all the dried tears.

I heard him shrug. “Not really. All fights stem from some sort of argument. Eiji-kun was rude, and you disagreed. To let you in on a secret, everybody has been wanting to see him get punched at one point – and you did them all a favour!” His feet kicked up in malicious, childish glee. I always knew he was a bit of an ass. “He’s spoilt because his parents are rich, so he’s never had to clean up his own mess a day in his life, much less understand what it’s like to clean up someone else’s. He only sees people as what their roles are. Have you ever noticed people do that? That they never talk about other people based on their own necessities, and of the advantages they bring to us. Everyone just acts within their own self-interest without thinking about others.” He tilted his head far back. It was then I noticed how delicate and frail his neck looked, my hands could easily snap it without knowing. Despite his head facing the cloudy sky, his eyes were always watching me. “But you were different. You just couldn't stand that injustice, but unlike a lot of people, you could change that because you were strong. And, you know, ‘the strong do what they can while the weak suffer what they must’.”

In the back of my mind I must’ve known what he was saying was a bit too precocious for a ten-year-old, dangerous even. But before I was around Izaya I was around Shinra, so weird and dangerous was sort of the norm.

Sniffling, I wiped my nose. “I still hurt someone though. I don’t want to do that. I hate it.”

He leaned forward again, looking quite annoyed, dismissive. “Seriously? Everyone hurts someone in the end. That, or someone will feel hurt by something else anyway, people are fickle like that. The difference lies in intention. Personally, I learn not to be bothered by other people, and just do what I want to. People only use each other, and I don't intend to meet someone I like enough to be used by them.”

We stayed in silence for a long while.

“Hey, Izaya-kun?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, Shizu-chan?” He sing-songed.

“What does ‘fickle’ mean?”

We just talked about words the rest of the day.

So, I relented. Yeah, there was nothing to be worried about. I was talking to Izaya, for God’s sake. We never really cared about what we really thought about each other, we just said what had to be said, and what we wanted to say with each other. And, like any two people with thoughts and opinions, we often butted heads, especially regarding mores and personal values, and it usually led to a lot of personal attacks that really hit at each other’s sore spots. For me, it was my deep self-loathing. For him, it was his crippling lack of empathy. Somehow, we managed to stay sane together. Truthfully, I felt that we were closer than most people for that, it was freeing. I missed the easy stream of topics that would spill during our conversations. Even back then, he had a wealth of information on nearly everything in his head, as if inside it were some sort of library database, filled with knowledge and categorised by tragedy so he could pull out only whatever he thought was most interesting at a whim. I thought that at one point he would have run out of things to say. We talked about a million and one things and more, back then. I feel like in the last ten years I’ve only been able to say three. I’m pretty sure that we’re the only two people who could actually comprehend the other’s loneliness and yet be totally unable to grasp our own individually at the same time.

I dragged the chair next to him out and crashed into it, the day’s events simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating. Afterwards, I reached into my pocket for a cigarette. Snapping the lighter shut, I took a grateful inhale of smoke. Izaya wrinkled his nose some but did not make a sound. His hair swished a bit when he did and I noticed that his once stylish yet boyish hair had grown out just past his chin into something more androgynous.

Moving, I retracted the offending piece from my mouth, its orange end glowing in the warm night, tart on the sweet summer air trapped in a suffocating room.

“Right now I’m working at Kawarasho. S’not that bad a place, for me. It’s just, quaint, I guess you could say.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “Mm, I heard it’s not too bad. They treat their employees well, general adherence to production policies.”

“’Production policies’? How big do you think a primarily roof tiling company is? I’m surprised you even heard of it.”

“Eh?” He blinked. “Kawasho Foods Corporation? Was that not what you said?”

“Ka-wa- _ra_ -sho.” I repeated, tapping my finger once for each syllable. “It’s in Nara, where I live now.” I said redundantly, he _had_ sent a letter there after all. Wait,

“Shouldn’t you know? Considering you sent the letter and all.”

“Oh, that. I have to admit I was not exactly in the state of mind to properly note down things. I just had my Secretary send it out. Do tell me about it, though.” He said, only half-interested.

“We’re one of the only few corporations left that still do construction and repairs for traditional Japanese roofs.” The words spilled effortlessly from my mouth, as if I had always been prepared to recount this to him.

“How niche!” he said, clasping his hands together happily. It was a total one-eighty in terms of mood, but welcomed. We both needed the distraction.

“Yeah, there are some places that still keep to their roots, at least.” I reclined and took another inhale that tasted ashier.

“Oh I bet. You should pass me your business card – many of my partners and clients were talking recently about how much they would like to disconnect. Like a virtual cleanse, one of those new age things. They’re also planning to, ah, redecorate, into a more traditional style. You know, probably some new hippie movement or something.” I nodded like I understood. I did, to a degree, because I bet it must have been stressful, knowing that you’re constantly connected to everyone, but feeling a bit pissed off that that was their biggest problem. Mostly, I was happy at the implication that we would meet again.

“So, Nara?” Izaya paused, expecting me to continue.

“Mm, it’s less crowded than Tokyo – which is a fucking relief – but not too rural.” He whistled loudly. I had a feeling he was being intentionally obnoxious.

“Ah, no matter how much I try to picture it, it just isn’t real.” He folded his arms in deep thought. “The wild beast in a rural village. You don’t really have a _Kansai_ feel to you, though. Make me a meal and I’ll be able to judge better.”

I sighed, but was still smirking. “What, do I not have the ‘Kansai style’ or something?” He looked me up and down.

“Mmnnn, no. While I agree you’re a Kyoto kind of person, your face is more Showa style.”

“’ _Showa’?_ That’s not even a goddamn prefecture. Annoying.”

“Aww, did you think I was calling you old? Are you offended?” He teased, and I thought of how alike he and Masa – Matsuki? Whatever his name was were. I wondered if they would get along.

“No fucking way in hell would I be offended by you.” Regardless, I scoffed with the barest hint of offence.

“You’re so vulgar.” He waved his hand around at the air in disapproval. “But, you do _look_ Showa, you know, you have those – attributes. It’s handsome.” And all too soon, I felt my heart race faster. I wondered if he was intentionally pulling on my heartstrings or if he was just being casual.

“Y – yeah?” I gulped.

“Oh, certainly. I did also notice you’ve developed a bit of an accent, when did you move?”

“Around seven years ago, after I quit university. My senpai at the time, he said that a new job position had opened up there, and since there weren’t a lot of opportunities for fresh uni-dropouts to go, I took him up on the offer, packed up my savings and left.”

“Well, I guess your parents were always a bit carefree…” Izaya muttered.

“Nah, they were pretty against me dropping out, you know,”

“As all good parents would.” He nodded.

“Exactly, but I figured, I’m not the kind of guy who gets a higher education and is able to get into management or business. So what was I taking university for, anyway? Cause I liked reading? S’not like that’s enough to justify it. I know I wasn’t doing it for myself – being there was just confusing and tiring. It was just a waste of time and my parent’s money, and for a long time I was pretty unhappy there. So I said: ‘Fuck it’ and left the place before it got too much.”

“I’m impressed! That takes more courage than you would imagine. Most people are too afraid to do what they need.” He laughed, eyes bulging in that creepy way of his. “But oh, what I would have paid to see that. Knowing you, I bet it didn’t end as simply as a talk with the Dean, did it?” He lilted.

I shook my head, finger gunning him. “Yeah, you’re half-right. The thing was, I never liked the assholes that were there in the first place. The students were all dicks to each other, professors never really did much and lectures are just not my thing. It was then that I thought, you know what? University and high school really aren’t all that different, and for that matter, neither is adulthood. I always thought going from these points would impact me in some grand enlightening way, like I was ice finally going to break through and flow into water. But throughout these past few years I’m still hard and cold. I…kinda snapped. Made quite the scene when I left. I’m not proud of it, but at the time I felt relieved. I probably would have been stuck with the same job either way.”

Izaya stared at me with this blank expression on his face, it looked like he was downloading the things I said into his memory and just realising a few things all over again, the old mixed in with the new. Mulling and multiplying.

“I see…well, it’s mostly true. From what I’ve seen at least.” He crossed his legs together and leaned back. “I’ve just never heard anyone describe it quite like that, though.”

“Yeah.” I exhaled heavily. Getting up from the chair, I moved to muss up my bed. It was late and despite my sleep on the train I was getting tired. The silence stretched on.

“Shizu-chan, do you believe in a hell?” He asked out of the blue.

The unexpected nature of this question caught me off guard. I pondered about this for a while. I have never been particularly religious, my mother was Buddhist, though she wasn’t devout and never bothered much with it except for when New Year’s rolled around. The only thing she practiced faithfully was that she would never hurt a thing, even ants were simply picked up and dusted out. My father on the other hand, believed in Shintoism, but only superficially, and neither my brother or I were raised with any religious ideals. And Kansai was becoming pretty secular. Death wasn’t something I thought about a whole lot either.

“Can’t say for sure.” I settled. “I wanna believe that there is a place like hell for all the different kinds of assholes in the world, but isn’t everyone kind of an asshole? And who defines what sin is, anyway – nah, I hate that. It’s like something that would be designed to give suffering to almost everyone, not just the people who deserve it, and that isn’t fair either. For me there’s two types of _wrong_. There’s the wrong that’s rotten to the core and inexcusable, the one I hate the most. But then there’s this other one, that doesn’t _seem_ wrong. Where it violates some core part of you or goes so against nature that it _has_ to be wrong, or nothing is. I really don’t know, but if I had to choose, I would say that I don’t believe in a hell, or a heaven, but I do think that somewhere, there Is a place for all the people who do wrong. Just not a definitive place, and not necessarily after death.”

Sparing me one of his rarest smiles, he leaned forward closer to where I was standing, the sight of his face nearer to my torso had me blushing – we never did manage to get that far before. “Even after all this time, I just knew your answer would be weird. You have a, unique, way of speaking. I mean, it’s usually crass and not exactly eloquent, but you are oddly profound.”

“Okay.”

“’Okay.’” He mimicked.

I slumped down on my bed. The sheets here were overly soft, like mushed potatoes, and I laid down like I imagined Shinra did that hot summer day.

“What about you, then?” I asked.

“Hm? Me?" He paused. "I would say…Hell is other people.” He proceeded to explain further when he saw the confused expression I was no doubt making. “People choose their own meaning of hell, and by doing so they choose their own problems. It doesn’t matter whether it exists or not.”

I thought about it for a while, and decided I didn’t like it.

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“Oh, well, it's hard to explain. I've just been thinking a lot on these things lately. Do you have any knowledge on mythologies?”

“You mean like those ones with the lightning guy?” A girl I took a small liking to in University double majored in Greek mythology and Philosophy, which was uncommon, for sure. But spend a few minutes knowing her and you would see the clear, intense passion she had for the subject and it would be clear that her decision was the closest thing to defining ‘perfect’. On the flip side, there was me. I was supposed to finish a double degree and get my Bachelors in Building and Architecture and Literature, and we met because the lectures were nearby. She was small and petite, with a bob cut that stopped just past her chin, but the most distinct part of her were her metallic-red boots, striking against the white-tiled floors. We used to walk to classes together, myself only offering up a word or two while she rambled on about the ancient gods. It was like she didn’t need to pause for breath. She was very hyper about things she loved, I remember. I’m pretty sure we might have been dating. Sex with her was a very fun time, though afterwards there was nothing much to say. She did once bring up the topic of God and morality. I asked her things that I was curious of myself. _Does believing in God ma_ _ke you better_ _? What if you did something horrible without really knowing? Or if you did something terrible because you knew no one was watching? Would that still count?_ My friend smiled and said that the whole idea of God is that He’s always watching you. I have never gotten over that idea, that all my actions were being monitored, and that I would probably have a heavy price to pay. 

“If by ‘lightning guy’ you’re referring to Zeus, then yes. You know, in Greek mythology there’s a special place one goes to after death.”

“I bet.” I grumbled. There always was, because people just needed meaning in their lives so bad. One time a guy had asked me what his life meant, and I got so annoyed at his pathetic ramblings that I beat him up within an inch of his life so he could figure it out for himself. Vorona and Tom were there, with him calling an ambulance afterwards and looking displeased. Vorona simply watched everything with a bright intensity in her eyes.

“Oh hush now, it’s incredibly interesting.” Personally, I doubted it was, but then again there really was no harm in listening. Except for the fact that now was not the best time to be speaking about the afterlife, but Izaya had always dealt with trauma in special ways. Even when we were children with barely any understanding of the world, there was something about our various childhood tragedies that had resonated with him more than the rest of us. He didn’t recover from disappointment easily.

“There is this man in the stories, the one they call Charon. He’s said to be the ferryman who bridges the gap between life and death, carrying the souls of the newly deceased across the realms between life and death, so to put.”

“Oh,” Looking into his eyes, I recalled those red boots. “I think I’ve heard a bit about it. River of – sticks? Was it?”

“Styx, with a ‘y’ and ‘x’.”

“Got it, so what’s this story for.”

“I’m getting there, patience, patience.” I flashed him look.

“Anyway, to cross this passage a coin for payment is required. Usually, it was some ancient Greek currency like a drachma, but I’m certain that times have changed to adapt to inflation and scarcity or whatnot. Families who actually cared about their loved ones made sure to bury them with a coin in their mouth. Essentially, one had to book ahead of time or risk getting stuck on the Other side forever. The point is that those who could not pay were simply left to wander the shores for hundreds of years, aimless and tired. But who really cares? To be honest, I’d much rather do that than spend the rest of my eternity in a field of mourning or dead meadows!” A cough.

“The ritual for the dying, so indifferently cruel. Even if you did have a coin, then what? Most people have never done anything significant in their lives that they can just boil down to something worthy of praise or ire. The average human life, when looked at as a whole is just so insignificant. It’s like, _finally,_ you’re dead! The outcome? You get to spend a long, arduous journey next to a man who probably smells like stinky corpses and fill your blank slot in death. And now, instead of wandering on one side, you’re flopping around on the other. Yippee!” Izaya reclined as far as he could in his chair, the feet lifting off the ground as he arched cotton clad legs upwards and then abruptly letting it all fall back down with a dull thud, his neck stretched and exposed as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Sometimes, I feel like Shinra’s still wandering around, in an endless flotsam and jetsam between the dead and the living where there are no beginnings or ends, because the days are cyclical, so why not the afterlife as well?”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“After finding success I found myself having developed a fascination with human beings and immortality – you would know if you read my interviews.” He tacked on smugly.

“Um, I would have.” I began.

“But?”

“But, you know, things come up.” I lied. It was more because I couldn’t stand having to look at his face. “Not everything is about you, beansprout.” Another lie. Even now, people were drawn to him, even worshipping him at his feet. Reigning him as some sort of champion of humanity, a leader of the future – whatever sorts of things that surely added to his already large ego. In reality, he was simply a very charismatic entrepreneur. Despite all, I still could never see him beyond that intelligent yet insecure boy and general nuisance he was.

He couldn’t help laughing out then, clutching the stitches at his side fiercely. Weirdly enough, the most genuine thing I have seen in a while has come from the most manipulative person I know. “You’re the first to insult me in a while! It's weird, I almost miss that nickname. You’re exactly the same, you know, are you sure you’re even human?”

“We’ve known each other since we were ten.” I said, rolling my eyes at his antics. Talk about being the same.

“Hmm, how would I know? You could have implemented those memories into my system so you can lie in wait until you can go all _Terminator_ on me.”

“’Chill out, dickwad.’”

“Wah! Don’t kill me please!” He giggled hard as he put his hands up in mock defence.

“You’re a whole new level of paranoid,” I chuckled. “We both know I’m not smart enough for that.”

“But even that can be programmed too, you know! AI is getting so advanced these days, among other things. Augmented realities are also becoming increasingly popular. Have you heard of Virtual Comas? Those horror stories where people get so involved with their fantasies that they only wake up from it years later to learn that their whole lives have been a lie? Scary, scary, and also bad for business. But that’s mostly in the gaming market. Also, come off that self-defeating attitude of yours, you’re never going to get anywhere with that level of confidence.”

“Shinra used to say the same thing to me.” I said, without thinking. And all too soon, we were shoved back into our scary reality as well.

“Which is, um, he’d. Yeah. He talked about that a lot.” I concluded lamely. For a while, all we did was sit in this cloudy sort of silence, as the time ticked away on the walls, Izaya’s fingers tapped chronologically on the table in a sort of patter. Pinkie to index, pinkie to index. A staccato rhythm of time and body filled the room with a company that otherwise would have felt very lonely, even with two people.

“Do you know how he died?” Izaya asked softly, stilling his pattern of tapping. I swallowed nervously.

“No, I – I didn’t think it was right to ask.” I sighed.

“Nonsense. Please, you were his friend too, only _‘those who were dear and close’_ to him, remember? He wouldn’t mind, anyway, it was quite straightforward, really.”

“How?”

“Electrocution.” Izaya said, and then carried on when I didn’t respond. “He was working on one of his most confidential test projects if I recall. His fingers started moving again, in that ticking pattern that filled the empty spaces.

“Anyway, apparently there was some faulty mechanics with it, and somehow, perhaps while wiring it a screwdriver came into contact with a live wire – it created a closed circuit, you see. It’s so simple, just an overlooked accident, they happen all the time.”

“But?”

“But.” Izaya agreed.

“It doesn’t seem right, does it? So, I asked to see the body myself, but I was all the way in Singapore at the time and when I came back they’d already cleaned up the scene and did the autopsy. Even when I pushed to just see it – as someone who was very close to him, _I_ was refused. I only saw him recently, at the undertaker. At that point it was useless trying to do anything.”

Even now, after hearing it from Izaya’s own mouth, I still wasn’t convinced. Something still didn’t feel quite right, and the questions were only growing. I voiced my concerns with him.

“Your instinct is as sharp as always.” He complimented. “I agree, but that is all the information the autopsy report is revealing to me. My bet is that they’re either being heavily bribed or blackmailed to keep hush-hush about the issue because even I can’t get them to say anything. At the very least, none of this has gone public yet.” He concluded, putting a pale palm to his forehead. Sometimes, I wondered why he chose this public life for himself. As children and teenagers, while he _was_ attention-seeking, I would never say he ever wanted the spotlight set on him for too long. Especially considering how much he preferred working with discretion.

“Why can’t you do some snooping yourself? Wouldn’t there be people on your ‘side’ as well?”

“You’d be surprised at how little people actually like me. Most employees can barely make it past a day working directly with me. And regardless of that, I would like to keep the situation as low-brow as possible. I can’t trust just anyone with such limited knowledge.” For a moment, I pitied him, but I knew he didn’t need that.

“Besides, what can I do now? My friend is dead.” He said softly. Instantly, I felt envy boil within me at the unbelievably soft reverie in which he said those words. As if they were meant for someone special. I prayed for forgiveness in the next – now was not the time to get caught up in petty jealousy, for fuck’s sake, Shizuo!

I jumped, startled when he spoke up again. “You know, no offence to you personally, but high school was absolute _shit_.”

“I thought it was fine, for the most part.” Enjoyable, even. At least compared to how the rest of my life panned out.

“It’s not that it’s just – _he’d_ always tell me that nothing’s changed since then. For some reason that’s always bothered me, I couldn’t stand it. He’d always say to me ‘Oh, Orihara-kun! You haven’t changed a day since high school’ What was that supposed to mean? Look at me now, have I not changed? Have I not grown? What was I doing wrong?”

His fists clenched into two tight balls at his side. It didn’t take much thought to figure out who _he_ was. I’ve always known that they’ve been close but what exactly happened in the past few years that even Izaya would be so rattled by the past?

He shot up his head to check the analogue wooden wall clock, its pendulum hovering back and forth. I noticed it too, for the first time. I thought it was weird, it was such an old device to keep in the room. This whole hotel itself was very dated, and not even just for this time period, which was a very odd choice for housing guests from the literal prodigy who created works of the future.

The erratic breathing slowed down. “I hadn’t realised how fast the time flew by. Well,” he rose, dusting himself off. The volume of his coat, like vantablack, pooled slightly around his hips and flowed back down, like a black hole that swallowed everything underneath. Like his body-hugging pants, for example. I was partly disappointed by that, it felt like the colours reappearing in my life left along with the view. “I should get going now, it’s a busy day tomorrow.”

Izaya wished me goodbye and surprised me again when he leaned in for an embrace. I gladly returned it. There was nothing sexual about it in nature, we were both searching for a kindred spirit, who we could both relax and engage with without a care in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some sexual deviant who gets excited by the barest flash of people’s knees or the brushing touches or form-fitting pants. I have had girlfriends and a couple of flings over the past ten years, but they never lasted too long, due to my combination of sometimes bone-crushing strength and my inability to get over Izaya. Apparently, I have mentioned him in bed before. Vorona was still the longest I ever had, and for a period of time, I truly believed that she could have been the one to help me move on and stop lamenting about stupid things like some goddamn pants. I shared almost everything with her, and there was a comfort there that I couldn’t quite place. I liked to care for her, but perhaps due to our similarities and introversion, sex with Vorona always felt a bit awkward and out of rhythm – even touching her breasts felt a bit weird and incestuous. We broke up six months ago, stayed friends, and life carried on. I think we were both thankful, actually. It was not that I didn’t love her – I still do, just not as the way she wanted to.

We stayed locked in our embrace for a long time, I almost believed it was forever. But then, he parted first, and I had to, too.

He coughed, slightly flushed, then composed himself again. This all took place in the space of around two seconds. “I hope you don’t mind, you’re the only one I can really do that with. What with all those corporate sharks swimming about.” And I felt flustered, too. “I suppose I am part of that group too though, aren’t I? Just another link in the world’s worst chain.”

“Nah, you’re not a shark, more like a cat.” I said, convinced.

“Are you calling me delicate?” He smacked my arm playfully but I caught it just in time.

“Maybe I am. Look at you, you’re all skin and bones, it’s like you’re not properly eating. You look as small as you did back then.”

Too late, I realised my mistake. Izaya stopped smiling then, and by the time he was at the door, he was back to being cold and hardened. Fuck, he was always so moody at the wrong moments.

“I suppose I haven’t been eating much. It’s very difficult to find time to worry about these trivial things, what with the advent of having lost someone dear _and_ still having to keep his assets from flying into who knows whose pig’s hands amidst all the chaos. You know, like a responsible human being.” Drawing his fists to his chest, he continued in pretended weepy exasperation.

“I’m _dreadfully_ sorry I can’t just laze around like some animal and live the easy life of smashing a bunch of cement and tiles together and calling it a day.” He hissed and slammed the door shut.

Unbridled amounts of indignation rose within me. Who was he to say all those things! Frustrated and with nothing to do, I kicked my still unzipped carrier bag across the room, where the impact it made dented the wall, carving a warped shape into the otherwise uniform pattern across the room.

…

Three hours from Shinra’s funeral, I was exactly where I was two days ago, looking out a different window. Luckily or unluckily enough, Izaya decided to ride shotgun with the designated driver, so I was left to stew silently at the back.

Thankfully, as promised, the room keeping had delivered a new suit this morning to my room, and I was wearing a simple black suit with a dark tie of my own. Izaya was dressed in much the same edged black – it has always been his best colour – except his suit had a silk-like quality that just screamed _expensive._ Luckily for me, it was a short drive to the _Kasouba_ which took place before the _Kokubetsushiki,_ or separation ceremony as it was called. Personally, I have lived through enough separation in my life and wasn’t looking forward to doing so again.

As soon as we arrived, Izaya hastily stepped out to observe the area. This part, I was told, is the first part of the ceremony which he wanted to keep private. The actual funeral with everyone else was a separate event.

“The actual cremation of a body feels a bit intimate, doesn’t it?” He asked without turning to look at me, back in the car.

“Yes. It does.”

I distinctly recall Izaya having two younger sisters – twins, if I’m remembering clearly. The last time I saw them they barely reached the height of my thighs. They were here, now, the longer haired one whose name I believed was Mairu waved at me. It was almost time for the _Kotsuage_.

“Shizu-nii!” Mairu came bounding at me, and I quickly held out my arms to catch her in time. She was bright and loud as always. I was happy to see them, though. Back when we were younger and when we still had sleepovers, I liked taking care of them because they reminded me of Kasuka when he was younger and still showed more emotion. After I learnt that Izaya was primarily in charge of raising them, I tried coming over more, just to make sure he was okay, or at least not lonely. He’s never mentioned it, but I could sense that he was appreciative.

“It’s been so _long_ since we’ve seen you! We missed board game nights with you, it’s no fun that Iza-nii keeps winning on the rare days he comes by now.” She pouted.

“I missed you guys too.” I smiled.

“Shizu-nii, hi.” Kururi said, at her sister’s side as always.

“If you guys are here, why didn’t you follow us in the car?”

They looked at me, confused.

“Iza-nii…alone…”

“He’s such a jerk! He never lets us ride with him!”

Seeing them dressed so well, so elegantly, just like their brother, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. I couldn’t help the warmth that spread through me looking at them now. It really has been too long since I last saw them. These two were one of the best things about Izaya, I thought. When we first met I had thought he was an only child, but when I stepped into his home for the first time and saw him bickering with two little girls – it was great.

For a moment, they seemed to make him more human.

After that, I wondered if my brother made me more human, too.

Other people included here was a girlish, bubbly-looking lady with whom Izaya was talking to, an equally young and curvaceous woman with light blonde hair like mine – though I’m sure hers was natural. Beside her was an aging man with brown erratic hair who went up to Izaya to greet him. Well, it was not so much as a greeting as it was a tense engagement.

“Shizuo! How are you, you freak of nature! I hope you realise it was one of my son’s greatest dreams to be able to dissect you, so in honour of his last wishes I believe you should allow me to do the same!”

“You – you’re Shinra’s dad?”

“Hard to tell without the mask isn’t it?” He scratched his uneven stubble as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “So, what do you say to my offer?”

Well, this was unexpected, and frankly quite disturbing. It is needless to say that I much preferred him with the mask. From behind the pretty blonde-haired lady stepped forward and brought her arms around his neck. I found the whole thing quite uncanny.

“It’s so sad to hear about this news…even before, he never once called me mother!” Lamented the uncanny woman.

“Yes, yes, that boy could never really appreciate some things.” Shingen sighed, sliding his hands downwards to explicitly cup her bottom.

Shinra was always, perhaps, a bit messed up about family. More so than the rest of us.

“Do you guys know this is a funeral?” I asked, distaste present in no small amounts.

“Of course!”

Before I had the chance to get angry, the brunette hastily made her way over.

“Dad! Have some tact at least.” She quickly shooed them away for Izaya to deal with. I saw his exasperated expression as he sent the girl a death glare, to which she smiled apologetically. This small exchange made me more upset than I cared to admit. Then she turned to me and smiled brightly. “I’m really sorry about them, I’m still trying to get used to them as well!”

Shinra’s family seemed to all have a predisposition for cheeriness no matter the situation they were in.

“Who are you?” I said, perhaps a bit rudely.

“I’m Kazane Kinomiya, but I guess for this occasion I should call myself Kazane Kishitani.” She reached out a hand for me to shake. I took it cautiously, being as gentle as I could.

“You’re Shinra’s sister?”

“Half-sister.”

“I didn’t know he even had one.” I admitted, sure I must have forgotten at some point.

“Me neither.” And I looked confused. “Our mother told me about him later on. I was finally able to meet him because of Izaya!”

“Izaya?”

“Mmhm, I didn’t realise he was my brother’s friend when I first met him in high school. I was interning at his company back then.”

“Considering him, that’s pretty impressive.”

“I know, right? I’m pretty great!” She waved her hands jokingly. “I’m just kidding, I just have good connections. His sisters and I are good friends, so they bugged him to hire me. I was so nervous back then, and it didn’t help that he looks so handsome. I used to have the biggest crush on him.”

“Izaya used to have lots of crushes in high school too, girls would follow him everywhere.” I said, a bit spitefully.

“Oh, that’s not hard to believe.” She linked her hands together behind her back. “You know, I used to get teased and bullied for working for someone like him, , back when he was less popular, crushing hard didn’t help, either, but his sisters helped.”

“How?”

“They told me to stay away from him.”

“Ah.” That’s generally good advice when concerning Izaya. I could never commit to it though.

“Well, did you?”

“Not really, as an intern it’s not like I’m by his side every day. Though, I did go out of my way to talk to him when I could – and I was glad, because I was able to get to Shinra because of it. And I mean, it’s a bit sad to just stay away, isn’t it? When it’s not _entirely_ his fault people don’t trust him. He’s simply the type of person who, when wronged, pays it back tenfold. I think that’s pretty amazing.”

I saw Izaya wave us over, looking perturbed.

“I think it’s time for us to go.” I said, pointing at him. She smiled, all bubbly and full of energy, which really didn’t fit the theme of today.

“Yeah, I want to see my brother one last time.”

Cremating someone you love is a painful thing. Worse is when we pick their bones. The seven of us gathered around the ash and bone. Only two of us could pick them at a time. My grandmother used to say that the colour of one’s bones could tell you about the person who was living. If it was black, they did a lot of bad things, white meant they were okay and pink was good. I believed in it dearly until I had to poke through her ashes and saw that hers were just like the rest of us – plain white.

Personally, I think this ritual is kind of sad. No one wants to see the remains of a loved one. It was around here that the full weight of what I was doing hit me. Of course, he was dead. There was no turning back the clock.

During the process we passed his bones around. No one said a word.

The actual funeral with everyone else was a separate event. Or, should I say, it was not so much a funeral as it was a social event where Izaya seemed intent on sleuthing out every individual. Especially after his suspicions were confirmed with my compliance last night, like it was all he needed to firmly set the motions in place.

The whole place stank of mourning and an undercurrent of something more insidious. The incense too, was clogging up my airways the same way cigarettes would, minus the tentative relief. At the same time, there are people who could get just as addicted to this repulsive smell.

Some people who have never dealt with situations like these might wonder what mourning smells like. Well, I can say that it’s not just the smoke making its way into your lungs that burns. It smells old, ages old, and yet with a new disinfectant-like moroseness mixed into it. Think of the oldest and most treasured thing you own: an item, a memory, a place – it was like that, but maybe just that your item was cracked, your memory tinted blue, and that place starting to crumble. That was the true pain in mourning, it was slow and it took time.

This funeral was a weird mix of style. Unlike the _Kasouba_ which was kept very traditional, the main event felt like going through the motions as a standard funeral, just – impersonal. Appearing very cold and clinical. I suppose Izaya thought it suited Shinra, I think so too.

During the whole process I turned down any drinks that were offered to me. I had decided to quit things like drinking (and technically smoking) when I hit twenty-four. My doctor warned me that my heart and lungs were heading in a bad state. Not anything serious, but it could be.

Sipping on a cup of water, I felt very lost. Alone in this sea of strangers. Shinra, undoubtedly, had met all sorts of people in the time we spent apart, and I felt the full force of it right here. I scanned the area for Izaya at least ten times, desperate to just not be alone. It was probably clingy, the way I was acting, and creepy, too, since we’ve never even had a wisp of contact before yesterday, ever since he left that fateful night. But the previous day revealed to me something that a part of me always knew to be true – that despite everything, we could always slip easily into each other’s presence.

I have always had this feeling that no matter what life I was in, I would always have to seek Izaya out. That being connected to him was a great necessity. As a young boy, the thought came to me suddenly. We were on his couch, listening to one of his father’s vinyl records. Izaya’s father was an elusive man that I never saw, but he told me that one of his favourite things to do was collect vintage items from overseas and send them back for his son. Back then, I thought it was cool that he had a dad that travelled around and got him lavish souvenirs from across the world. Looking back though, it must have been only a small comfort.

While on his couch, we listened to this old song. Izaya’s house was always clean and seemed ready for display. But it felt empty. There were no portraits on the wall, just modern and abstract paintings that felt more mechanical than genuine. There were decorative objects on the table, like lamps that looked unused or small ornaments littered on tables but they all felt like superfluous clutter, a clear display of wealth meant to distract from how much nothing there was. There were no display cases or tacked on reminders on the fridge, no toys littered on the floor, no crudely drawn artworks from his sisters scattered on the tables. In that way, it was lacking. However, there was one item that stood out against the uniformity of the rest of the room.

“Where did you get that from!” I asked with all the enthusiasm of an eleven-year-old.

Izaya motioned for me to take my shoes off as he set his bag down. In my surprise, I had forgotten to. 

“My dad likes collecting old things from overseas, but mum doesn’t like it when they gather dust around the living area so he keeps it all in his study.”

“Wow, why did she let him put this one here though?”

“Because I use it.”

“It looks like a weird trumpet.” I was careful not to touch it directly for fear of breaking it.

“It’s called a _phonograph_ , and I don’t mind if you touch it, my sisters have knocked it over so many times in the past. Deliberately.”

“But it’s so…fragile.”

“It’s _old_ , and I usually get someone to fix it up anyway.”

“If you don’t want to go through all this trouble then why do you bother using it?”

“Because,” he began. “I think it’s an interesting relic of the past.”

“’relic’?”

“Historical object. I mean,” he said breathlessly, “can you imagine someone from the 1920s, not even in Japan but all the way in somewhere far away like America, having to use this? I think the feeling you get when listening on it is different, too. There’s a weird charm to it that I can’t find in other old or new toys.”

I stared at him with my mouth open for a while.

“Can I listen?”

“Sure. What do you want to listen to?”

“What’s your favourite song?” From there, every Saturday or so Izaya would make the effort of going through his father’s study to find the record. His tiny hands, so small compared to the record disk itself that was larger than his own head back then, would then work to remove it from the sleeve. It was the only thing I wasn’t allowed to touch. I recall the sleeve cover, with a weird looking cowboy, his stance defensive while his right-hand edging towards his gun, ready to shoot.

He put it on as we sat on his cold couch, warming it up.

> _Out in the West Texas town of El Paso,  
>  I fell in love with a Mexican girl.  
> Nighttime would find me in Rosa's cantina;  
> Music would play and Felina would whirl. _
> 
> _  
> Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina,  
> _ _Wicked and evil while casting a spell  
> _ _My love was deep for this Mexican maiden.  
>  I was in love but in vain I could tell_

I couldn’t understand what they were saying, because, predictably, everything was in English. But the tune and the melody sounded very melancholic. Izaya and I sat there soaking in the sounds, and I didn’t want to ask him about any of it yet, because he looked very serene in the moment, as if anything else would break this small peace.

When I looked to my side again, I heard him humming along to it too, and I thought, _I want to feel this way forever. I want to be with him._ It was like some grand truth, a prerequisite to everything I have ever known. That whether or not God was real it would be his first priority to see this true before getting on with the rest of the world, you know? I couldn’t pinpoint exactly as to whether this was a good or bad thing yet, just that it was, and that it always would be necessary. The sun would sooner be purple and I would still have the inexplicable need to chase after him.

From then till now, I still feel the most connected to Izaya in that little friend group we made. Shinra had always been distant, Kadota nice but faintly aloof. Izaya was at once all these things and yet not. Actually, I had felt he was surprisingly honest, just that maybe he didn’t want to be. And he possessed all the social skills to make up for the rest of us along with the detachment from other people that fit him so well into our circle. And for that reason, he was the only one I really felt anything impassioned for.

I can’t exactly say it was the same for him. But somewhere deep inside, he must have thought something strong for me. That, I believed to always be true.

While aimlessly stumbling around the place, I spotted a familiar looking person.

“Kadota?”

“Shizuo? It’s you!” He called out, whipping around.

Soon after which, I realised that he was not alone because beside him was the very man I was looking for. Kadota went up and shook my hand, looking genuinely happy. It has been long since I saw him, the last time we met being two years ago, when I was in town to visit my parents because my grandma had passed away. 

Izaya stood at the side as we did all that.

“Ah, there you are. Sorry I couldn’t talk to you earlier, and for yesterday too. But you’re a big boy now aren’t you, Shizu-chan? I had to go deal with his father – he’s always been a pain.” He spoke more to himself than to either of us.

Before I could get a word in, he seemed to get a call from someone or something because he looked up, suddenly serious, and started edging away.

“I apologise, I have something else to attend to – I’ll give you two ample time to catch up with each other.” And he floated away into the mingle of people, looking quite dazed. Kadota sighed.

“God, Izaya must be crushed.” He lamented, shaking his head.

“Yeah, we all are.”

His eyes widened as he grabbed my upper arm, dropping his voice to a whisper. “That’s a bit insensitive, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”  
  
“Weren’t they – you know, together?”

My heart stopped.

“What.”

Kadota rolled his eyes, looking very irate. “Shizuo, don’t tell me you never noticed. I thought you and Izaya were close, man.” Yeah, I thought so too. I was close enough to fuck him, at least, but judging by the way Kadota was acting, it seems like I wasn’t the only one.

Kadota saw my stunned expression and let go of my arm to run his hand through his hair.

“Listen, I could be wrong, but I always thought that Izaya had an – inclination towards him; I mean, he did disappear right after he left, for one.”

“Then there was this other time, after we – “ He stopped, dragging out his sigh into something long and slow. “Well, this really isn’t the best time, huh. Tell you what, we’ll go out for drinks again one day, and I’ll tell you what I think, ok?”

I nodded, finding myself walking away slowly.

Shinra and Izaya? Izaya and Shinra? Shinra and Izaya. It was so obvious yet I felt blinded and betrayed by this whole revelation, even though I had no real reason to be.

“By the way, sorry I couldn’t make it to the cremation, my buddy’s van broke down so – Shizuo? Hey – !”

My body was moving on its own, mowing my way through the crowd. I didn’t care who I bumped into, who I was offending – none of that mattered until I reached my goal.

I found Izaya between his sisters, a head taller, in front of the shrine. Shinra’s portrait smiled at me, the same smile he had since we were ten, where his eyes were open but never crinkled. Only this time it felt more like a taunt than anything.

The three of them were all lined up, wearing the same face, like this, it was easier to tell they were siblings.

Now that I think about it, his sisters also did like Shinra quite a fair bit.

He must have heard me behind him, because he came up to me when he was done thinking, muttering something to his sisters before he left. “Again, sorry about yesterday.” He said absentmindedly. I saw his sisters look up and their faces brightened once again when they saw me. Smiling, and a bit smug, I waved back. They really were cute and lively, if a bit mischievous, just like their brother was. Most of the time.

Izaya followed my line of direction and shooed them away. “They’ve always liked you, you know. Or more accurately, your brother.” It seems that today was a time for disappointing revelations about my importance in various people’s lives.

“You’re just jealous because they’re nicer to me.” Izaya shrugged.

“There’s just been, so many things going on.” He continued. “Beyond Shinra, there’s all these people trying to latch onto his patents and papers, then there’s the father –“ He scrunched up his face. It was adorable. Izaya’s always had a nice face, a bit round with angular features, a small mouth and nose, with sharp eyes. It was just too often that his personality would get in the way of anyone appreciating his aesthetics. “– who’s still trying to claim his assets and weasel his way in some way. He claims it’s his right – as if he’s been by his side all these years. He’s the one fanning the flames and trying to get all that media attention. He’s an eccentric man but a good sensationalist, I’ll give him that. And it’s difficult to ignore a gasmask when you see it in the news. Despite my best efforts it’s like everyone and their mother knows almost all there is to know about the whole sorry affair. I’m glad this location is so obscure. The public’s in a state of panic and questioning, and I’m being badgered left and right. I’m on edge.” He rambled, barely pausing to take a breath.

I put my hands steady on his shoulders that were trembling ever so slightly, earlier frustration still there, but less important. “Hey, no, it’s alright. Last night I shouldn’t have – look. It’s clear that no one’s in the right state of mind now, I get it. I know what that feels like, so, call it even?”

He gave me a tired smile. “You’re so understanding sometimes, it’s so weird. What happened to that Shizu-chan who was oblivious to everything as long as it didn’t involve his little ragtag group of friends?”

I stuffed my hands back in my pockets, turning away. “He’s still there, just older.”

“And wiser?”

“Not really.”

Abruptly, I felt a pair of small hands on my shoulder, smoothing out my white collar.

It’s a weird thing to admit that I liked by friend’s hands on my shoulders, the way in which he held me just felt so relaxing, light but firm and with intention. The last time Izaya put his hands on me like this was way back at the start of high school, when we were fourteen-years-old.

Earlier during the day, I got attacked by a random group. Before then I used to get a steady stream of challenges from cocky high schoolers or upperclassmen that heard about my reputation beforehand. Over the years, it had managed to die down somewhat, but there were always those rare few who weren’t smart enough or perhaps just too in over their heads.

“It’s probably some form of the Dunning-Kruger effect.” Izaya had said afterwards, as we were stumbling home in the dark. Due to the surprise, they had managed to get a few good hits in on me. He had been there when they attacked, and that was probably what angered me more than anything. That these guys had the potential to harm him.

“Where they vastly overestimate their own strength in numbers. Poor Shizu-chan.” He said, tightening his arm around my waist to flare one of the injuries. In response, I used the arm around his shoulders to put him into a headlock whilst he giggled away.

Despite our casual joy, there was something that still bugged me deeply at the back of my mind. As the cowards fled, one of them had screamed the word _Monster_ so loudly that it hasn’t been able to leave my ears ever since. I haven’t heard anyone call me that since elementary school, the word itself poison and seeping deep into my bones as if it had meant to be there all along. Someone calling me what I was supposed to be, re-invigorating the devil within.

At that moment I stilled in my footsteps, and with his head in a deadlock, Izaya had no choice but to stop as well, flinching back in surprise. My hair fell over my face like a dark curtain as I looked down at my feet. I let go of Izaya and he stood a bit further than I’d like him to, against the chain-link fence we stopped by.

“Shizu-chan?” He starts softly. “You have a really scary look on your face, like you aren’t yourself.” Or maybe I was looking more like me than I ought to.

“Please, Izaya, tell me, what am I? Am I a human, or am I a monster?”

“Monster? What are you even saying?” Izaya knows what I was saying, of course.

“Come on! Tell me, _what am I_?” I yelled. Slowly treading forward, my footsteps crunching the still-wet grass underneath. Every step I took felt heavy and loaded with accusation, and some darkness bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening violence.

Izaya quickly backed himself against the fence, for the first time speechless. He’s…not afraid. But the intense look in his eyes is something close.

“Shizuo, you’re not being yourself right now. Did those nobodies from earlier really get to you this much?” He tried for humour. I sighed heavily, slamming my forearms against the fence where he was at as I hunched over him, effectively trapping the boy.

_“Just…what am I?”_

Izaya slapped me. But immediately afterwards, his hands and arms were on my shoulder, surprisingly strong, as he pulled me close. My head ended up hitting against the fence but I didn’t so much as wince. Staying just as solemn as earlier as I leant into Izaya’s embrace, having the thought that this situation should be awkward or uncomfortable, but that it was the exact opposite. Izaya for his part, looked like he does not know what compelled him to drop everything to hold what is clearly a beast in his arms, or why he has not yet affirmed my belief that I am one, as I fully expected him to.

“I…sometimes, if you can believe it or not, I also feel so much that I don’t know what to do. No matter what I do, it feels like there’s this thing inside me that wants to claw it’s way out of my chest. It’s not just you. It’s not just me. From what I’ve seen, I’m sure it happens to everyone, Shinra most definitely, Dota-chin maybe. That’s why you’ll – you’ll be fine, Shizu-chan. This emotion is powerful and can push you around, but it’s what you choose to do with it that’s all that matters. And so far, you’ve been doing fine. Today, you were just unlucky.”

“…Thank you.”

“Shizu-chan should start dyeing his hair blond to ward off all the inferior people who dare to challenge you.” He joked.

Back then, I lifted my head to stare at Izaya, and wondered if this was what love felt like. To be able to so deeply understand and relate to someone on a metaphysical level of being able to bridge the sorrow between the both of us and register each other’s pain as similar, but not the same, and internalise it within ourselves either way.

We shared our first kiss that day, and it was soft and momentary, but electrifying. From then on the occurrences became more frequent, right up till our last year of high school.

I thought of this old incident as I let him work his nimble fingers on my sloppy tie, which was the only thing I had brought to this occasion that was proper. I had traded it in place of my bowtie when I found it lying in the back of my closet, forgotten. He swiftly unweaved the line of silk, gliding it to form loops and curves until it settled into something that looked new and ironed, pressing it against my chest. From where he was, I could see the little whorl of his hair. I felt like touching it so much, so I did. Reaching my hand up, I laid it on his head, patting it gently. It made me forget that these hands could also lift tons of steel as if they were tons of feathers, just like it used to.

Izaya seemed startled, shrinking away slightly. “Am I your dog or something?” He asserted, flattening his hair.

“Oh, sorry.” I said, dejected.

“’Sorry’,” he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Do you have anywhere to be after this?”

“No, actually.” I realised, and felt utterly depressed.

“How about this then,” Izaya leaned in without warning, whispering lowly. I would have liked to think that it was seductive, amorous, but it wasn’t at the same time. “come over to my place after. No one should be alone after a funeral, it’s bad luck.”

At his apartment, I tried to make myself at home but soon found that to be near impossible. It astounded me that our two radically different places could both be considered ‘apartments’. His home was worlds apart from my dingy hole in the wall, with a goddamn set of _stairs_ leading up to an elevated segment. The most luxurious thing I owned was a mini fridge by my bed I saved up to buy when I got my first promotion.

“Do you mind?” Izaya asked from the kitchen. Out of a sense of obligation and practiced social etiquette, rather than being entirely concerned about my mindfulness. He’s never been particularly worried about these things unless he wanted to appear likeable. And by this point it’s probably become a habit. I saw that he was in the midst of popping open a chilled champagne bottle, certain that he would have opened it anyway, even if I did mind.

As it stood, I really didn’t. It was a pitiful day for the both of us fools. I nodded stiffly, and he uncorked it with a _pop_ – except that it wasn’t quite as plosive. There was an odd bit of air and leeway, giving it a much more bubbly and rounder sound. Maybe more like a _pwop_ – a _bwop_? Instead of that clear, undistorted note one would expect. The foam overflowed, cascading gracefully into the sink in waterfalls before it fizzled out. Izaya took out two clean and lean glasses until I signalled to him to put one back.

“Quit.” Was all I had the energy to say. He raised his eyebrow at me but didn’t push. Now, I could really see that Shinra’s death hit him particularly hard – otherwise he’d have been dying to know why.

“So be it. Champagne’s completely useless, you know?” He said, smiling slyly. “The only good part about it is popping the cork open.”

Its foamy and bubbly smell stirred a memory in my murky mind.

“Remember when Kadota snuck one from his parent’s stash and we all had a go at it?” I really liked that memory. We were all giggling and happy, being fucking stupid and talking about who knows what kind of shit. Best of all, Izaya had leaned flush against my shoulder, staring at me with those same bright eyes and sharp features. His cheeks had been warm, I remember, all while the watchful eye of the moon hung low in the dark, blue light spilling into the cramped room. Even as a confused teenager, I had felt that instinctive swell in my chest that only certain people ever feel throughout their lives. At that point Izaya and I had been kissing for more than eight months, as well as experimentally touching and exploring more sensitive areas with our hands.

“I do!” He tittered, setting his glass back down. “Dota-chin revealed he had the hots for that second year, Emi. Why, we even got him to call her, it was so good.” He slapped his knee a few times while laughing. Then, dropping his voice an octave lower, he recited. “E – Emi-chan, I really like you! Go out with me – please!” He ended, clapping his hands together in mock prayer.

“You’re the worst,” I said, though I was still chuckling.

His smile was knowing, mystifying as the dark side of the moon. Then, it was normal again. “Granted, none of us thought that it would have _worked_. What an odd girl. Oh!” He picked up the tall glass to take a quick sip. “Did you know she’s working at some finance agency in Roppongi district? I met her a few years back, she’s proficient.”

“I know I’ve asked you this so many times in the past but how do you still remember stuff like that?” I asked, incredulous. I could barely remember the name of my co-workers.

“I could remember more,” He bragged, though it wasn’t all that impressive with his cheeks flushed and him bracing his hand against the side of the table. “But I’m a bit drunk right now. We’re all drunk, on this terrible drink called life!” He cackled, stumbling around a bit and for the second time today, I went up to steady him. Catching him against my chest as I wrapped my arms around him.

“Was it nice?” He purred. “Breaking the rules? Was it thrilling to have that rush of power?”

“It was nice,” I said lowly, right next to that sensitive spot on his ear. It caused a shiver to run through him. “Going against the current and having fun like a regular group of friends.”

“Oh please,” Izaya pushed himself away, and that spell was broken. “I was nothing more than a little smartass back then, thinking I had something more to say. Even to you, I didn’t exactly treat you as an equal all the time.”

That kinda stung when he confirmed what I always knew. “True. But you were young, we all were.”

“It’s just – everyone treated me in a different way. Even back when I couldn’t exactly call anyone a friend. When you’re young and you hear about how great you are, with people fighting over you, you feel powerful. Like you’re flying leaps and bounds above everyone, watching the tiny ants down below. You get a big head with no ground to fall back on. It was like that with everyone, except for you three. You don’t know this, but after everything fell apart, there was a period of time where I just _couldn’t_ comprehend other people. And I asked myself: _Why is my existence so lonely?”_

“Izaya, - “

“By the way,” He added, another sip, another question, quickly moving on to the nearest topic. He was never one to linger too long on personal talk where it involved him. I wanted to pursue his earlier line of dialogue but I knew he could be as stubborn as I could be strong.

“I have been meaning to ask, why choose to study what you did? I can’t seem to link them at all."

“Uhh, because reading is one of the only things I kinda like?"

"I guess I can see the link with it a bit more. We always did spend a lot of time reading inane stories to each other, didn’t we? And perhaps I can sort of see the connection with architecture with what you’re doing right now, but I didn’t think you would ever _like_ Physics or Mathematics all that much to put with it for a few more years.”

I shrugged. "Well for the other one, it was more of a suggestion from Kasuka, to get some sort of hard skill. And I mean, I wanted him to be proud of me. It was difficult at first, but when I put my mind to it, most of the math stuff got pretty repetitive so it wasn’t too bad. Plus I thought, that with Physics, maybe I could be able to understand my strength better, too. At least, enough to not accidentally break down a building.”

He hummed. “Did it? Help, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“How was the other experience of higher education like, by the way? You never told me.”

 _You never asked._ Was what I wanted to say.

“You never went?” 

“Nope!” He peeped, popping the _‘p’_ sound at the end. It sounded much better than the champagne. “I went straight into business. I totally mean to boast when I say I _am_ a natural-born entrepreneur. So, I’m a bit curious about the campus life.”

I didn’t have much to say. I told him about my girlfriends, my lectures, and sure enough I could tell he was getting bored, flicking some lint off his dress shirt. He probably expected something more exciting from my life. Though, there was one other guy besides Tom who I remembered well from my dorm days in university. He was a roommate that everyone on campus had dubbed Jerker Boy. He had the worst bowl cut ever, perfectly straight and evenly cut bangs that wrung around his entire head like a helmet, just above a set of diligent, thick eyebrows. Underneath that three-inch hideousness, he possessed a sort of buzz-cut. I couldn’t tell if he belonged more in a library or a military troop. And that wasn’t even the most confusing part about him. Every morning, at precisely eight o’clock without fail, he would always start watching porn – very loudly. And it was the same video every time too! Once he was done, he looked me straight in the eye, bid me a “Good morning.” And went to make himself a cup of coffee, as if nothing had happened.

I recounted all this to Izaya, and it made him roar with laughter. Jerker Boy was a weirdly good ice-breaker. Whenever I told this story to anyone it would always make them hysterical, and sometimes I would even get a pitying “I feel sorry that you had to room with him” look. In all honesty, he wasn’t all that bad to live with. So long as it wasn’t morning, he was remarkably quiet the rest of the time, and he always did his half of the housework, which was already more than what the average roommate would do. Even I have to admit I’ve flaked out on doing my own chores on occasion. Maybe all people needed was some weirdo in their lives to make themselves feel normal.

“Well, with an arrangement like that it’s a wonder you didn’t quit sooner!” 

I shrugged, turning my attention to the grey tiling of his floor.

“Honestly, I didn’t mind. I couldn’t exactly tell him to stop.” Well, I did. When the noises just got _too loud,_ but somewhere between me asking him I had ended up shaking his collar and scaring him. I felt terrible afterwards and we never talked again. He did actually stop. For like, a month.

“Nonsense you can’t, one look from you and he’d have probably wet his pants.” Izaya downed the rest of his champagne in one gulp. “Ew. Gross, I told you it’s completely useless. No wonder he dumped this on me.” Izaya muttered. He dumped both bottle and glass into the sink to rinse then dry.

“Want me to fetch you some water?”

He shook his head, one hand wiping the glass with a blue cloth. I found a reassurance in seeing him clean it manually. “I’ll be fine, but you should get one for yourself. I hardly recall you taking a thing before, not that I blame you, I find it difficult to stomach anything as of late. That was what we argued about, right? Sorry, again.”

“Why do you keep apologising?”

“Do I?” He seemed shocked by this revelation. “Hm. It’s a side effect of all this, maybe? Loss begets pain and pain begets forgiveness, perhaps.” He set aside the newly polished glass. There was not even the barest trace of a speck of dust. Tidy. Unblemished. Pristine. Those encompassed Izaya’s whole apartment. Clinical, crisp, cultivated.

“Do you, uh, clean often?” I asked, feeling strangely intimidated by a place I know I can tear down if I so wished to – fairly easily too. I was well-acquainted with buildings and structures, even newer ones, and knew of the most destructive ways to bring them down. His apartment walls, for example, were likely made of gypsum-based wallboards, which are much easier to break through.

“I have a secretary. She comes in every odd weekday. You know, I sometimes wonder if she’s an android of sorts – she has the emotional capability of an early 2000s AI and all the expression range of a porcelain doll.”

Izaya spoke in undertones and hushed voices, surveilling the room as though there were actual spies watching. That was always his brand of weird; Izaya had the ability to get so caught up in his own games that they may as well have been a reality.

“So, wait – is she?” I asked.

“Of course not.” Izaya scoffed. “I despise those things.”

“Really? But aren’t you all about that life. Don’t you work really closely with technology? I thought you’d like those.” The look Izaya was giving me encompassed all his horror and disgust.

“Yes. _Technology_. That’s all they are supposed to be. A tool. They’re not _human_ , thus I have no care for them and frankly, don’t understand why other people are so caught up in this storm. Besides, I don’t work with _androids. My_ designs are minimal and are only intended to equip the human body with the tools to help them unleash their full potential; efficiency, knowledge, power, not – modifying their genetic code, or implanting so many trinkets that they may as well be a robot! Why do you think _I_ supported the clause to limit people to a maximum of two modifications? Any more would already be too dangerous – inhuman. But now there’s people pushing for more, and some pushing for none at all.” It was here I could see his business tycoon persona come to play.

“Well, what’s the big difference? I mean, I don’t give a shit about implants, I’d never get any myself, but I never really saw the problem with them – android, robot, human, whatever.”

“Tch,” he derided. “Of course _you_ wouldn’t.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, blood boiling in a rage I hadn’t felt since the first time I saw his face on that advert years ago. It’s been building up then dying down and festering only to rise again, from the moment I stepped into that hotel. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You were always like this, with your – ‘benevolent and above all’ shit attitude. You wanna know why Kadota, Shinra and I were different? Because we all knew what you were inside, what you’re really like so you never had to be anything that you didn’t want to. But for _fucks_ sake Izaya, you don’t have to be a _dick_ and try to hide and scratch at everybody who’s just trying to comes near. Is that why you didn’t bother even trying to contact me all these years? Why you didn’t ‘comprehend’ other people? Because you’re too good for all of us?”

“Now wait just a – “

“You’ve always said you never minded certain things, that you could accept anything,” _me,_ being the main one. “but I think you’re just a liar, and that you just like playing the role of a pompous martyr. Well guess what, you’re fucking not. _Fuck,_ Izaya, Shinra is _dead,_ and there’s nothing saving him now.” 

A silence close to death befell the room, and I, I was watching everything unfold from afar.

“…that he is.” He muttered. Looking out his panoramic windows at the vibrancy of urban night-life. A stark contrast against the varying shades of grey in his home, at the centre of which stood us two, among the whispering and the champagne and the stars.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I swallowed the lump in my throat as the guilt slowly replaced it.

“Not now.” He finally answered, sotto voce, truthfully this time. “Maybe when the three of us can meet together again, just not now.”

“Ok. Yeah, yeah.” It made sense, I supposed. And we lapsed into a tense silence again. We never used to.

_It’s too **quiet.**_

I cleared my throat, the silence was becoming too loud. “I guess you’ve heard the recent news, then. You know, about androids and the riots.” I tried my best to recall all of Tom’s ramblings about the situation. There was particular news a while back that stuck with me, around two months ago. Protests and riots for the rights of artificial beings that passed the Turing test. Even me, someone who kept as far away from current events as possible, knew of this. I had actually followed it for quite a bit after hearing Tom and Vorona discuss it one day, and thought about the nature of these issues at night. I had been mistaken as an android, or a cyborg, or just inhuman in the past, when I survived getting hit by a truck and walked off with nothing more than a crick in my back. At the very least it was better than being called a monster, because then it felt like I was still within the confines of this society. However, I stopped keeping up with it when it escalated into a particularly gruesome riot – August 17th, Massacre at the Iwate-Hanamaki Airport. The whole week before that I had been on edge, jumpy and cautious of the slightest shadow down the street. Like I was trapped in a cage that was slowly being heated over a small flame.

The incident started as a large protest of people against a well-known AI advocate that lived near the area. Soon, it had spiralled into mass hysteria, with fights breaking out on both sides. Innocents got roped into it, too, and with that I lost all sympathy for either party. My brother had been around the area, luckily, he was well away from the outbreak. There were at least 13 deaths in total. That story popped into my nightmares occasionally, it was nothing more than mindless violence – and I hated that more than anything.

“Yes, I have.” Izaya said from somewhere far away, but it managed to draw me from my reverie. I have always found Izaya’s voice to be distinct. It was not exactly soothing but it could be nice, given the circumstances. At the very least, it was always characterised with charm. Unlike Vorona, who always spoke in a single tone of voice. And while that had its own attractiveness to it, over time, it proved a bit grating. Just a little bit.

“It’s intriguing, that someone would go through that much trouble to do all that.”

“You mean you think someone planned it?” A bob of his head.

“To the average person it might seem like a situation that spiralled out of control. A series of unfortunate events. But then one has to ask themselves, ‘How did they know the advocate was going to arrive there?’ This wasn’t supposed to be announced until after he got to his hotel. Of course, ‘it got leaked.’ One would say. Or maybe ‘He’s an important man, _someone_ was bound to see him.’ But even to my best knowledge I had not known of this beforehand, and it wasn’t from the lack of trying. Someone first had to go through the trouble of gathering this information – and I bet it was very pricy, considering the difficulty. Then, there was the riot.”

“It started with a ‘flash and a bang’, and then some random guy from the crowd was dead.” I recalled.

“Exactly. I’m not one to believe in conspiracy theories, but what regular civilian would carry a gun with them? Even law enforcement aren’t allowed to carry firearms. And wouldn’t it have made more sense if Miyamoto was the one who got shot and killed? Think about it, anyone who’s armed in Japan can’t be an amateur, so we can probably rule out the possibility that it was a misfire. And in the official autopsy it was written that the bullet lodged exactly between the eyes and out through. It was made to look intentional – precise.”

“You mean to say that someone wanted to frame the other party? So that they would be seen as a threat? Fuck, this is some crazy shit.” I growled, running a hand through my sweat-damp hair. Regardless of whether I cared for what they were fighting for, something big and shitty was brewing in the heart of this city, and I couldn’t get rid of the thought that it was all connected.

“That’s my best theory. What I know for certain is that this was definitely no freak accident, and likely, it’ll happen again. The riots have only become a national issue around last year, but already there’s been rumours online, about these terrorist colour groups. And it’s about to go to war.” Izaya looked terrifyingly thrilled to discuss this, his hands motioning quickly with flair. Explaining complicated matters used to send him off on an ego-trip of sorts, and what better matter to break down than a national-level conspiracy theory. These were the parts about him that made me wonder if his mind was ever quite there. Still, I listened, because a part of me was burning to understand this whole sorry mess, and the other part that I buried years ago knows that I was never quite there either.

“It’s like there’s some sort of invisible hand playing everyone across the board.” I said.

“Invisible hand is a nice way to describe something that looks designed. People can be nudged and pushed in a variety of different directions, but the truth is that all these events are simply weaved together through an unnoticed, unseen and complex web of innumerable human interactions and intentions.” He sounded so impassioned when speaking about the complex machinations of a greater society full of disorderly individuals.

Izaya teetered to his desk and pulled open a drawer, returning with a file, pen and a sheet of miscellaneous office paper. Then he jumped onto one of his Juliette bar stools, swivelling around once before motioning for me to sit beside him. It reminded me of when he would tutor me on maths or English, mostly to make fun of me, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as he held the answer to everything.

“You see, it all started a few years back with the Blue Sharks – by the way, you should ignore the names of these organisations from here on out because they’re all absolutely ridiculous – anyway, they’re the ones who started the liberation movement. I know their old leader, Ran Izumii – not very intelligent unless it has anything to do with brutality. But he’s been usurped by his brother, apparently, some upstart by the name of Aoba. As of now, I can’t decipher if it’s an alias or his real name, in either case it’s quite unfortunate.” Izaya writes it down on the paper, with a crudely drawn shark at the side, pulling up an image of him from the hardcopy file I was surprised he had.

“He looks young – too young for all this.”

“Don’t be fooled, he’s a sly one, and his looks don’t reflect his age. He’s twenty-three and well established enough in the underground to be discreetly running a gang and getting a hold of weapons, at least. Recently, they’ve merged with Saika, they’re – “

“Androids and Cyborgs infected with a virus that overrides their natural functions. I’ve had a run in with a group of them once, five years ago, before they started spreading like wildfire. They get people with eye implants. Red eyes. Fucking creepy bastards.” I said, snarling. Angrily, I snatched the pen from him, almost snapping it in half as I branched off from the Blue Sharks and wrote down their _kanji,_ adding another crude drawing to the pile for good measure.

Izaya made no comment about the drawing and gaped, more awed than astonished. “And you made it out alive? That’s impressive, even for you.”

“It wasn’t easy. Fuckers are strong as anything, I’ll give them that.”

Under the two characters Izaya wrote a new name. “Their name changed into the Purple Squares – like I said, absolute nonsense. But now they’ve combined, their numbers are bigger, and combined with the Saika virus there’s been more outbreaks of rogue androids. People have at least picked out that it only seems to affect those with more than one implant in their body, and the way it functions is by overriding the body’s natural functions through the nervous system. Unfortunately, their leader still eludes me, but Shinra once had a theory that there were two people behind its operation.”

“Shinra? I didn’t think he cared about these things.”

“He doesn’t – didn’t.” Izaya paused. “He said it casually, actually. Um, he talked about how there were frequent discrepancies with their attacks. About half of the people who were attacked by a Saika were killed, the other suffered only surface injuries, and non-fatal ones, too. It was too different, I’m a bit embarrassed to say I overlooked that aspect myself.” He pouted, seeming rather flustered. I had the insane urge to go in for a kiss, instead, I moved my hand to rest on his hip. He did not move away.

“Guess you’re too smart to focus on the small details, huh?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Don’t you know me so well.”

“Now, on the other side there’s the Yellow Scarves. They’re going against the whole regime. They’ll break into any electronics store with their bats, set the place ablaze and destroy everything in there – and I mean everything. Some of the scenes are absolutely gory; either you’re with them or you’re not.” Izaya spat bitterly. “’Fighting for humanity’ is their whole spiel. What nonsense, they’re just mindless, more so than Saika, in my opinion.”

“Never heard of them.” I said, slightly alarmed. Even I have never seen Izaya look so dark before. Despite all, I kept my hand at his side, along the way, it had slid to his waist. Still, he made no attempts to part from my side. In fact, he leaned in closer.

“Good. Because they were crippled by yours truly.”

“Wh – you? What was all that earlier about hating androids?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t exactly agree with anybody’s message here. I am firmly on humanity’s side – which usually means the side that ends up winning in the end. But honestly there’s no winning party in any of this. They targeted one of our – my outlets.” He quickly corrected. “There won’t be too much trouble from them anytime soon.”

The underlying threat was not missed by me. I knew, Izaya was wildly capable of horrible things, but I never felt the full weight of it before.

“What did you do.”

Again, that same smile.

Kazane’s words came back to haunt me. _“It’s not_ entirely _his fault that people are afraid of him. He’s simply the type of person who, when wronged, pays it back tenfold. I think that’s pretty amazing.”_

I don’t think _‘amazing’_ is the right word.

Izaya operated like the man of the system, like he had a scheme to remake society according to some master plan or vision. He has often acted like he can arrange different members of society with as much ease as the hand arranges the different pieces upon a chess-board. With no consideration that, while the pieces upon the chess-board have no other principle of motion besides that which the hand impresses on them; in the great chess-board of human society, every single chess piece has a will of its own, altogether different from what some may choose to impress upon it. In this moment, it feels like Izaya relishes in the idea of these chess-pieces disregarding momentum and acting in a variety of manners, where the game will go on miserably, and the society must be at all times in the highest degree of disorder. 

“I wonder how many people hate you.” I said, I couldn’t help it.

Izaya shrugged. “I don’t particularly care what people think of me, it has no bearing on my life.”

I thought he was wrong. There are a lot of people in the world who claim not to care about what others think of them, but it’s a protection from the possibility that they are not loved, not respected, and not appreciated. As I’m looking at Izaya, I’m certain; that the people who appear not to care what others think about them are the ones who desperately crave the attention and approval.

“In the midst of all of this, we have the neutral party – the Dollars. As far as I can tell, they’re a free for all. They have members everywhere, actually, I’m pretty sure some Dollars members are also in the other gangs. Now, you might think that its counterproductive but it’s quite the opposite; the leader has their eyes everywhere, and depending on their mood they can quite literally turn the tide anytime. In a game of chess, they’re more than the Queen, they’re the chess master, that invisible hand actually changing the direction of the game. I’m half convinced that they’re not even human themselves – who could keep up with everything otherwise? No normal human being, that’s for sure.”

It was all so senseless, the fighting, the riots, the setup. I squeezed his waist tighter, causing a slight wince.

“Watch that strength of yours sometimes, I know it’s been years but surely you haven’t forgotten?” He gasped, grabbing my palm.

“What’s the point in all this?”

Predatory and leopard faced, he linked all of them together, forming a wild map of conspiracies and terror, where there were still bits of dislocated links leading to nowhere. Then, he leaned in closer, so I naturally held him even tighter, and dropped his voice to the barest whisper:

_“Man: A being in search of meaning. Everything flows, and nothing abides, but since we cannot change reality, let us change the eyes which see reality.”_

And it was like that, in an undefined spectrum only measured by the ambiguity of colours that held no weight. There, was where people made their depraved, deprived and destructive damned decisions.

There was where the two of us were reverted back to a childish wonder, stumbling in our own little playground, and for a moment I thought this too was all a game.

…

“You know,” Izaya says under me, gasping for breath in a higher voice than usual. “Shinra’s always had a weird fascination with you – He’d even bring you up on occasion, like: Hey, remember our old buddy Shizu-ChAHn!” He yelped and sputtered and I managed to hit his prostate hard. “I wonder – hahh – what he’s up to now, probably still breaking bones!” Izaya cackled.

“You, talk too much.” I grunted, while lifting his hips up higher to angle myself just right, eliciting a wonderful cry from a very proud man. For once, that spine presented to me wasn’t straight and rigid as a board, but able to feel as the rest of us did, lowered and curled with hints of shame. I was experiencing the same high I did back when we were seventeen and I got him on his back with his pants down.

“And he did, not say – ‘ _Shizu-chan.’_ ” Was all I could gruff out.

At the end of all things – still panting – Izaya spared me a smile.

“No, of course not.”

“Now that I think about it,” Izaya said after another round, when we were both blanketed in the dark of his sheets. “You might have been the one who sparked his interest in poking around with biological engineering."

Izaya licked his chapped lips, twirling the shiny silk around bony fingers. I remember, back at the funeral where he used those same fingers to pick apart Shinra’s white bones from the ashes, and again when he used them to fix my tie tight around my neck. The blanket glinted perilously in the low lights.

“I think,” He eked out softly. “That I had a bit of a fascination with you as well.” Then he looked up, and his eyes held the same weight as when he looked at me that night, before he was about to make a big decision.

I did have one big regret that stood out amongst all the others in my life. The evening before Izaya had left, he had actually spent it in my room.

“Izaya?” I whispered when I saw him crawl into my window instead of the door. I had stayed quiet that time because both my parents and brother were home.

He had been silent the whole time, his face expressionless as he just stood there, and it was the first time I thought he looked very adult – as if he had grown in the span of a few hours.

Well, the situation itself wasn’t too unusual. Sometimes, we would climb into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night, just, to be near. The most terrifying part was when he crumpled to his knees in front of me, his entire body shaking in spasms. I had thought he was laughing – he wasn’t. It was this distinctive sound I never heard from him before, a sound that forevermore separated the old from the new. I didn’t know what to do back then, so I just held him, held him together by the thread of his seams, cradling him in my arms for as long as I could.

Somehow, somewhere, we had started kissing. He initiated it in a flurry, and I wasn’t exactly resisting. This kiss was passionate, and it asked for something different – more, than what we usually did. I had always wanted this, but I never expected it to happen in this way. Slowly, we rid each other of our clothing, carefully and tentative, neither saying a word for fear of breaking this fragile world. Then somewhere along the line, we grew animal, shredding every article off the other, biting and scratching wherever we could until I was fully in him. At this point it felt like, my soul had booked an eternal ride to heaven but was refusing to let me onto the train, and I was fine, so long as I had him to wait with me. I would never be tired with him here, I thought, I could never run out of energy near him.

Ever since that night I have never forgotten the first sight of Izaya’s face contorting in pleasure, nor the pure bliss I felt, having his sweat-damp body cling so tightly to mine. What flesh! I thought, pale and creamy. He had always been lithe, with narrower hips than the average male that made him look so delicate. I couldn’t say he could be mistaken for a girl, though, just a very pretty boy, like he’d always been. I traced the line in the middle of his chest and went down the path to the dip of his belly button. He was unexpectedly soft to the touch.

The next morning, I awoke with a headache and the realisation that he was gone. At the time, I thought it would be fine, hopeful even. We would have tomorrow to talk about, and the next day, and the next day, and possibly the next year.

That day never came.

All of a sudden, he was gone, and I was left with a dreaded emptiness that never quite left.

I had tried everything within my reach to look for him. Old emails, classmates, Facebook, his sisters. There was nothing. As if he had vanished along with dear old Shinra. As if he had never existed.

Of course, he would pop into the public sphere a few years later as a wildly successful businessman and tech designer, with _Shinra_ at his side. His larger-than-life image on screen brought up my memory of his small body sobbing on that fateful autumn night, awash with climax as he came all over us.

I got arrested for punching a screen with his sneering face on it, too angry to think. I had finally found him when I stopped searching, but I still had no means to reach him. Not that it mattered much anymore, I thought later that day, behind grey walls. I resolved to put him behind me, so I did. For a while.

“I wonder where we’ll end up, after all this.” I said after our love-making in the wake of our friend’s funeral.

“Don’t worry about that,” Izaya breathed, wrapping my arm around his neck as he nuzzled my collarbone. “I’m pretty sure Shinra would have asked Death to book two more souls along for the ride.”

...

I returned home the next day with Izaya’s number in my phone.

“By the way, don’t bother contacting me first. There’s a high chance I won’t pick up, since it’s only one of my contacts, and I have a busy life.” He said, pulling up his socks. There was something wholly innocent about that, the way he tugged on the ends to fit right up to his ankles. Unlike last night, where neither of us were very innocent.

“Fuck, how many do you have?” I complained, turning my phone in my hand as if it would provide me answers. “I didn’t know you could have more than one contact, didn’t you say there was a policy to limit that?”

“Oh, up in here, yes.” He tapped the side of his head. “But I do still use mobile devices, Shizu-chan – _many_ people do. You’re just the only one I’ve seen who still uses a flip phone. _That’s_ archaic.”

“Oh. Well, it’s cheaper.”

“Yeah, and anyway,” He continued. “At least you’ll know that I have to call you within a month, since the new update will expire the whole thing from any phone made before the turn of the millennia. By the way, that number I gave you is the one up in here, so it would be a bit annoying if you tried to call me during a meeting or something like that unless it’s an emergency. I don’t want to have to block you, Shizu-chan.” He smirked.

I returned to Nara, already feeling lighter in my chest.

It seems like my disappearance, even for a day and a half spread through the grapevine because when I came back, a few more people than usual crowded around me despite Tom’s best efforts to keep them away, and started bombarding me with questions. Where did I stay? Was it fancy? Why didn’t I tell the boss before I left? How was it? Who died? Did I manage to get laid? (I bet the person who said this didn’t know they could have almost ended up in the hospital).

All the while I just kept silent as I pushed past the wave of people around me with the help of Vorona, and sooner or later they got the gist. I felt like if I were to part my lips the last ten years would have started pouring out.

Izaya promised to call me after everything so I would diligently wait by my phone, constantly checking for any missed calls or messages, much to the chagrin of my colleagues. I even waited by it at night, with the stars watching me, judging. I would flip them the bird and realise just how stupid it was, but do it again anyway.

Weirdly, Masaomi, whose name I finally remembered when I saw him again, hadn’t bothered to badger me a single time. On the tenth day of my return, I was working overtime again, during which I managed to charge my ancient phone in one of those public sockets since the ones at my home never worked as well. All for another hope of a call. When he saw this, Masaomi walked up to me and invited me out for a round of drinks.

“You know I’ve been two years sober. I don’t even _like_ drinking.” I grunted at him, glancing up from the bright blue of my screen. What was with people and drinking away? Did they not know how difficult it was to stay sober with everybody bothering you left and right? Just smoke, at least that kept most annoying assholes away from you.

“That’s what they all say.” He countered, sounding more dead than alive. Unfortunately, this was becoming a familiar trend in my life – everyone around me was always quiet or tired. Maybe that said more about me than the company I kept. “Just let yourself off this once, man. I wanna talk to you about some things I feel like you should hear.”

Puzzled, I stared at him. He looked a bit different, simply wearing a milky hoodie and a single yellow bandana tied around his neck that matched his hair. Probably some new fashion trend, I’ve seen a few more around lately. It suited him. It made him look even younger, yet the face he was wearing was the most mature I’d ever seen on him, and I learnt from past experiences that this wasn’t always a good thing. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He gave me a good once over and raised a questioning eyebrow. I must have been a pathetic sight, hunched over on the ground, squatting with my face inches away from that old, digital blue screen. It was terrible, and it was the only thing I knew since I returned to the home that didn’t feel like home anymore.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He said, stuffing his hands in his pocket and backing away slowly, but not once did his eyes leave my huddled form. He was a brave kid – or a stupid one, to look at me with a sort of challenge in his eyes. And also, maybe a bit of disappointment. So much at once that I had the distinct urge to flick him across the forehead and hopefully send him crashing backwards, but I resisted. “Look man, I’m not gonna pry about whatever’s got your dick so hung up against the wall and reduced you to some mute, but I just think you would appreciate getting out of your own world for once. It’s depressing all of us at work.”

So that was how we found each other walking in tandem to one of the local bars. At first, I thought I must have looked so out of place, in my working clothes while he was still dressed, not impressively, but in a casual street wear that was attractive to the right audience. We kept trying to make awkward small talk until we both decided it wasn’t worth it. It’s weird, I always thought, if given the opportunity, he would be able to spend hours talking to a wall, or at least practicing to flirt with it. We remained soundless the whole way there. Unable to help myself, I checked my phone at least five times.

“I’m quitting work.” He said, after downing his second shot of liquor.

“Ok, why?”

“You know about my girlfriend, right?” He asked after he signalled for another round of shots. This time, for the both of us. I let mine sit in front of me, still unsure. I gaped at him for a solid minute before he made a sound somewhere between a snort and a sigh. “Really? You’re such a difficult guy. I think of you as a friend, you know, so you don’t have to be scared.” He took a swig and slammed the glass down onto the table.

“I’m not scared of you.” I said incredulously.

He shook his head. “I wasn’t talking about me.”

“Anyway,” He carried on. “I feel like I mentioned it before, but I guess you have trouble listening. She and I have been together for a while now. High school sweethearts, if you will. We were in the same year, same class, even. And – “ he gulped. “We were good, we really were. I mean, I liked to flirt with other girls a lot but it didn’t mean anything, it was all just to tease her, really. She wasn’t the jealous type anyway, sometimes she’d play along. She just – put her love into _everything_ around her, no matter what, even me – especially me.” His voice could barely be heard over the din of the bar, but yet the strain and tear in it rang loudly in my mind.

“Around the time we were eighteen, she stared university. They let her go intern at this big-name company. She kept asking me to do the same, get a good career and stuff, standard shit. Instead of listening to her and going to university with her like any normal kid, I just, didn’t want to. And I got into some deeper shit.”

“If you’re in the yakuza or something – “

“Not like that. But, it’s just as bad, I wouldn’t say.”

He didn’t elaborate. I didn’t want to pry. Truthfully, I didn’t care enough to pry, because from everything I already heard it sounds like whatever Masaomi was going to tell me would only anger me, and sour my already not-great impression of him.

“But in short, because of every _stupid_ thing I ever did, she got – she got hurt. So _bad_. And she wasn’t supposed to be a part of anything either – it was just, we accidentally targeted the wrong place and someone important got hurt – and _he_ wouldn’t let it go. Even though she didn’t do anything wrong at all.” His words devolved into mindless ramblings, but there was something about the way he said _‘he’_ that made me shudder to think of who could go to such extremes to get revenge. Somehow, I think I knew who it was.

As his ramblings further divulged into more muttered nonsense and open sobs, I still didn’t have the – heart? Will? To turn away from him. All I knew was that the situation was deeply unsettling and I was sure that it had something to do with more than just him or me. It was everything, everything that I could not afford to care about in this moment.

“I – “ he gulped, waves of guilt likely crushing his lungs and burning holes in his heart. “I couldn’t. Couldn’t face her afterwards. I felt too guilty. And I knew, that if I were to go see her even once at the hospital, she would forgive me. And I just can’t accept that. I don’t deserve it.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I lashed out at him. Because it totally was. What right did he have in making that decision when it was clear that he needed to put aside his shitty pride and face his consequences?

“I know.” Hushed he. “But still, I never went. I never went to see her. Eleven fucking months, and I couldn’t drag my feet to say sorry. Even a pitiful letter, or a text, anything, no.” He sighed deeply, staring into the yellowish-brown of the liquor, as if truly seeing how pathetic he was for the first time.

“Then one day, I ran into her, or maybe she ran into me. The day after you left. And, you know in that moment, where it feels like you’re looking at someone new and clear all over again, but it’s just not the right time? Like seeing their reflection in a window somewhere off in a building, way up high. It kind of felt like that, that distance.”

I knew. I nodded.

“You know, surprisingly, things went smoothly from there. She never brought up the past, and I, being too much of the coward I am, never did too. Before I noticed, we were in the same routine again. She invited herself over to my place, well, I let her in anyway. She,” he smiled bitterly. “She’s really sweet when she was doing all the laundry that I had piling up at home. I went off to work in the mornings. Came back in the evenings with takeout. It was like we were married, for ten whole days, we could just be like how we used to again. In the past, this would have been normal, perfect, even. My house was finally clean, but it wasn’t pure. Things were set in motion, but nothing about this could last. It was an unspoken rule that as each day passed, we would never talk about the things that happened yesterday, only about the now.”

“And even after you came back, it remained the same too, the both of us walking on eggshells around each other and just, living. Fuck, I’m dumb – I really thought we could stay the same. Everything’s fine, everyone’s happy. It’s all sunshine and flowers and all, but I knew something was eating away inside her. How could I not?”

“And do you know what she said to me?” He asked, nearing tears. By this point it was silent and still, no one but my ghostly presence to bear witness to him. “She said, I’m sorry Masaomi, I can’t be in love with you right now because I don’t think I’m ready. Truth is, I’m terrified. I’m afraid of reality after being alone for so long so I’ve been living this fantasy that we can just reset everything. We both have. I apologised to her, so much, telling her that she didn’t have to be afraid so long as I was there to hold her. She shook her head, I wasn’t too late, she explained. I’m simply too weak to carry on was what she told me. Even after what _he_ said. Fuck, it turns out that _bastard_ had the gall to visit her in the hospital, where they _talked_ and she _forgave him_ – and I’m more fucking upset at myself that I didn’t!” He threw his cup against the wall, seething with an anger I didn’t expect to see in someone so young, maybe because it reminded me too much of myself. I looked towards the bartender and made an apologetic gesture, but he didn’t mind at all, only adding it to our growing tab.

“She said: Maybe in a few years we can meet again, and I’ll still love you, I know I will, but it’s okay if you don’t. And then she left. And I just let her go!”

The sound of shattered glass filled the once mute room, we were lucky the bartender didn’t seem to care. He’s probably seen this time and again.

Defeated, Masaomi slumped back down, head in his hands. “She’s stood by me at every important moment in my life. When we were young with no direction. When I was struggling with what I wanted to do. When the close friends around me became strangers and then much worse. She’s so fucking nice, I never deserved her.”

I couldn’t find it in me to disagree.

“Why tell me?”

He reached forward so readily, and I found my collar grabbed as he pulled me down to the same level as he, I was too startled to get upset by this.

“Shizuo,” he edged with ruthlessness in his voice. “I don’t know what the _fuck_ you’re doing but don’t ignore the rest of us, godammit. If you let go for too long being nervous or scared or floundering about then you’re never going to get anywhere.” And it’s when he said this that I finally felt bad I never did think of him as a friend once. 

We were three sails to the wind that night and I still didn’t feel drunk enough.

When we both exited the bar, he merely lifted his hand in a show of goodbye and stalked off into the dead of the night. I find myself lingering just under the flickering light of a lamppost outside the bar for a long while. Long after the door to the pub has closed and the bolt set. Despite the cool and dry air, I remain there, just staring in the direction he left in, thinking of all the ways he’s enriched my life. Leaving is harder than I thought. Finally, the flickering light above my head goes out, and the street gets just a bit darker. _Goodnight, my friend._ I murmur. _Be well_. Then, I turn up my collar and head for home, thinking but one thought:

_Hell truly is other people._

Masaomi opening up his heart had revealed something in me as well. I made a new resolve this time: That I will not simply put the past behind me. I will take Masaomi’s case as an example to not forget the ones who were and who still are. And this time, I will hold on tightly to anything I love from beginning to end. That was all I could do, and therefore all I needed to do.

…

Later that week, Kida – that was, Masaomi, packed his bags and went on his way to some other point in his life. He had a cheery goodbye, having had almost everyone like him in one way or another. I didn’t know where he went to, but that ominous feeling of not finding out faded out slightly. I spent as much time as possible with my little group – quiet and happy.

The three of us spent a good few days walking around the town, going to restaurants, talking about nothing in particular. It was nice to spend some time not being angry or worried at all. When it was just Vorona and I, we would revisit old cake shops that we used to frequent when we were dating. Though the experience reminded me more of Izaya than I cared to admit. We used to spend time, just the two of us walking around the new neighbourhoods around Ikebukuro and Shinjuku that were popping up, as well as the dark and abandoned alleys behind the scenes for more heated times, though we were both too young and stupid to really work up to anything passionate. Or maybe it was more like Izaya would lead and I would go along with it, because what else did I have to do? Izaya liked to visit the more populated and tech-y places, malls, cinemas or whatever. I didn’t always like it for fear that I would cause some kind of scene or break some expensive shit. Izaya either didn’t notice or didn’t care – or he noticed _and_ cared yet wanted to see what I would do. Maybe he felt a bit guilty about it sometimes, because on occasion he would lead us around for hours, only to end the day at some cake shop or dessert place. I knew it was for me, because he hated sweets, and never ordered anything.

“Shizu-chan, have you ever tried guessing what people were like based on the food they served you?”

I thought about what he said while trying to avoid eye contact with Izaya. He was wearing that cropped black jacked and red shirt from middle school he somehow managed to keep on throughout the rest of high school, and it made him look sharper. Somehow, it was weird spending a moment like this with each other, like an actual date, properly facing each other and not really doing anything with intention, it made me feel a bit flustered. Something in my expression must have showed it or maybe it was my entire body language because he kept staring at me with an indescribable look.

“Yeah? I don’t really care about how they make them, but sometimes I’ll eat ones that have a really good texture and the right amount of sweetness. Like, they really poured their happiness into it.” I didn’t realise I was smiling. “But then there’s also other cakes that are sorta like store cakes. They’re good but they don’t have that…attention? To them.” I finished, scooping up another sugary bite. These were one of the good ones.

“Really now? Well, I’m not much of a…ah, cake connoisseur myself, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.” He smiled, genuinely this time. I always thought he had a lovely smile; too bad it’s plastered on the face of a liar.

In a surprising move, he swiped my spoon away and popped it into his mouth, his tongue licking the rest of the white icing off the metal playfully as he handed it back. My face turned to a hilarious shade of red as my senses heightened and zeroed in on him, as the low chatter of everyone else in the room died off.

“Good. You should eat more cakes, otherwise you’ll keep being the beansprout you are.” He laughed.

Three days after Masaomi left, I found myself at Vorona’s apartment, somewhere I haven’t been to for over a month now. Her apartment was just normal, maybe _too_ normal. Overly neat with absolutely nothing out of place and having a distinct lack of personal items except the line of both Russian and Japanese books that lined her bookshelf, standing proud and colourful against the rather drab beige walls. That was just the kind of person Vorona was – she didn’t hold onto a lot of sentimental items, but the ones that she had were very prominent to see.

“Today was a nice day.” I said, stepping out of my shoes.

“Affirmative. Shizuo-senpai has been looking better ever since he returned from his trip. I assume the event really took a toll on senpai?”

“Ah, yeah. It was more complicated than I expected. Izaya’s a pest like that.”

“You have mentioned about your extensive history with the man.” Her voice sounded a bit disdainful, for the first time breaking that monotony I was so familiar with.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Has Shizuo-senpai ever thought about rekindling what we had?” She suddenly looked at me very intensely.

“Vorona…I.” I sighed. “I love you, I really do. But not like that. I don’t think we were all that good for each other.”

“I disagree. I greatly admire you for your strength and will, and I have never felt more alive ever since what we had.” As she spoke more fervently, she leaned in closer and clasped a slightly calloused and scarred hand over mine. I once asked her about it, but she said it was best to leave the matter alone. “It’s related to my father.” Was all she explained. As she moved closer I noticed her bottom lip was plump and red from having been bitten.

I just didn’t want to hurt her anymore than I feel I already did. I always always scared of going all the way with her, but now, it might be harder because of what we once had. She asks me to try, one more time.

“I cannot force Senpai, but I want to let you know that if Shizuo-senpai accepts this request, at least, it will help me confirm something very critical to my immediate future.”

I kissed her tentatively then, my hand reaching the back of her head and I made sure I was very gentle as I cradled her head. Her tongue was silky and smooth as she licked against my bottom lip and I unclasped her bra. Her breast was heavy and full in my hand, and I thought of what a beautiful woman she was. Stable.

Bending down, I sucked on a nipple and massaged her gently. Her noises were soft and even, I noted, unlike the broken staccatos of Izaya’s that told me more about him than he ever could in words. The most intimate I got was a _Senpai_ or, even rarer, a _Shizuo_ that she would whisper out. Not whimper, because she was strong like that. Daringly, I bit down on her collarbone to draw a reaction – something, a louder moan, a higher gasp, a shudder that goes through the body, tightened nails scratching into the impenetrable skin of my back – bit nothing yielded. I almost felt ashamed, the sex felt too platonic to be good. I finished quickly. Tonight, we agreed, together, that this would be our very last time.

Over the next few days, I felt enlightened in a way I never had before. For the first time, my future was clear and I knew what I wanted.

Of course, even the best laid plans fall apart eventually.

“Shizuo-senpai, you have a call.” Vorona informed me.

“Call?” I hadn’t noticed my phone was vibrating on the table so much.

“Senpai,” She enquired, looking at the screen. “Does this have anything to do with that pest you speak of – Orihara Izaya?”

That’s right – I had completely forgotten.

“Woah, Shizuo – you _know_ Orihara Izaya? Was that who the letter was from? Why didn’t you tell me!” Tom gestured, looking a bit offended yet still good natured.

“Yes, no, I don’t know him. Haven’t seen him in years until last week. And I didn’t say he was a pest I said he was _like_ a pest. There’s a difference. One’s a simile.” She shrugged, the barest hint of a smile on her face.

I quickly walked away to a private location.

“Hi.” Was Izaya’s flat greeting. I flinched at how cold he sounded.

“Hey, so – “

“Where have you been?” He snapped. “I’ve been trying to reach you the whole morning and ugh – Nevermind.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, “am I not allowed to work or something?”

“No, that’s not – “ I heard him sigh and mutter something unintelligible on the other end.. “Listen.” I noted that he sounded very exhausted, as if he only got twenty minutes of sleep in the last twenty days. “I’ve sent you an address, meet me there.”

And he hung up. I stared blankly at the offending piece of metal in my hand for a while. He hadn’t even bothered to ask if I had anything else planned, no. Just a greeting, what sounded like a jab and more ignoring. As if I was supposed to drop everything just because he called. Fuming, I flipped my phone shut and stuffed it in my pocket, fully considering not going at all. But I knew this was important, and I did promise to be available, no matter what. So I explained it to Tom, who didn’t look very pleased I had to skip work again indefinitely, and booked a ticket to run to him again, as I’m starting to imagine I always will.

When we were younger it was pretty much the same. I think I’ve made it too easy for him because I would follow him to do whatever. It was subconscious, I think. It wasn’t intentional but my acceptance of it was.

“Shizuo, where are you?” My mother asked one night when I came home particularly late/ She was dressed in a nightgown, arms crossed and only the living room light turned on.

I set my bag down, at the time I don’t think I registered how worried she was. “I was out walking around the city. We went to Shinjuku for a bit.”

“Why on earth would you be doing that? Do you know how far away Shinjuku is?” She cried, tilting my head back and forth while fussing over my clothes. I closed my eyes and leaned into her hand, only just realising how tired I felt. Even at sixteen I had to bend down to meet her at eye level.

“Because Izaya wanted to check out some new stores.” ” And I kinda did too. “He was thinking of getting new phones for his sisters.”

“Oh – of course it’s him.” She sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, sweetie, you shouldn’t always drop everything just to keep up with what he wants.”

Back then I think I resented her for saying that, but soon I came to realise the bit of wisdom in her words. Izaya would demand for the world along with all the stars in the skies, decide he didn’t much like it, and move on to the next request. It was just the kind of boy he was. And I, ever the idiot, was just the kind of fool to come back every time and love him back for it.

…

Izaya and Kadota were deep into conversation when I arrived. It was Izaya who noticed me first.

When I sat down he caught me up to speed, saying that he has spent the past few days gathering information on Shinra’s death, and one company in particular.

“Nebula.”

“You mean the old phone company?” I asked, remembering my phone logo.

“That’s more like a subdivision of their main business. They’ve diversified a lot more since then.” Izaya explained. “From the other sources I gathered, it seems like they’ve spent a lot of time trying to master some sort of – higher-level Artificial Intelligence, something Shinra was adept at.”

“So you think they’re related.” Kadota said.

“Oh definitely, there’s almost a hundred percent chance of that. From the other sources I gathered they’ve been eyeing us for years before this.”

“But what are we supposed to do with that? We can’t just base it all on some competitive rivalry, that’s just how business works, right?” I said.

“Oh how nice it is to be simple.” Izaya scoffed. I wanted to hit him for that, or punish him in some way that would have him begging for remorse. Instead, I crossed my arm to keep from lunging at his infuriating tendency to undermine me. “Yes, while that may be nothing new there’s a lot that Nebula has been doing to get things out of us. Just a few days before Shinra’s death we were pretty sure that the virus in the system was traced back to one of their top employees, it was probably some sort of spy or data collection bot, and it’s probably still roaming around there – it’s been quite annoying.” He admitted.

“So where do we come in?”

“You and I,” He said, pointing at me. “Will be going in there to gather evidence. I’ll be going under the identity of one of their employees who I’ve prodded for information – Nakura. You can come in under the guise of some hired help. Nakura is a bit important, and recently he’s been under fire for some things he said publicly, so it shouldn’t arouse anyone’s suspicion about you, especially since attacks have been escalating a lot more these past few days. Dota-chin can keep watch outside nearby, preferably in a car, or something. I managed to get into the security system, so he can alert us of any oncoming threat through the cameras.”

“What are you guys gonna be looking for anyway?” Kadota asked, seemingly agreeable with his position to not be too involved.

“From what I know, on the day that he died, Shinra was in his lab alone after hours.”

“Is that unusual?” Kadota asked. “I mean, Shinra could have been…doing his own stuff in there.”

“Dota-chin has such a dirty mind.” Izaya teased, and Kadota’s ears flushed red. I might have gripped the tablecloth too hard hearing Izaya call Kadota that. It felt different knowing that Shinra was the only one who didn’t have a nickname.

“That’s not what I meant. He could have just wanted to chill out by himself. And even so, a man has his needs.” Kadota shrugged.

“Mm, well, just trust me when I say he wouldn’t be doing anything like _that_ in there alone.” And it hit me to know that Shinra would have done things like that somewhere else. Somewhere else with Izaya. “Even so, there’s really nothing suspicious about that in it of itself, he could spend weeks there without seeing the sun and he’d still be the same.” Izaya said, sounding quite fond. “But here’s the main thing: after 8PM all footage and files relating to him and that room in particular went missing. So whatever this footage is, we need it. It’s somewhere in their server room.”

“Aren’t those things huge as fuck? How are we meant to go through all that?”

“For all your formal education in literature you sure have a limited vocabulary.” Izaya taunted, he seemed to be put-off by me ever since this morning when I didn’t take his call right away. “Don’t you know by now to never underestimate me, Shizu-chan?”

Kadota looks between the two of us as if getting something, or maybe he was just more worried about the throbbing vein against the side of my head. “So, are we crashing at yours?” Kadota mentioned, trying to diffuse the situation.

Izaya shook his head, and I was momentarily deflated.

“Only one of you, I’m afraid. Lately I feel as though there has been an extra set of eyes in there. No, it would be too risky if the three of us meet up at once, I think. So only Shizu-chan should come over.”  
  
I blinked, not expecting that. “Oh, sure.”

“Hey, it’s cool man, I’ve got a friend who still lives here. Actually, if you need, he’s still got an old van that he drives around.” Izaya perked up at that.

“What kind of van is it? Do you think he could let us borrow it? I’m not kidding about the constant watching – my cars don’t feel so secure either, someone has probably messed around with its wiring so it’ll steer me off a cliff or something.” I broke out into a cold sweat at this. Not because of how serious it seemed like the situation was, but because Izaya brushed it off so flippantly as if it didn’t matter what happened to _him_.

“Well, it’s a bit showy on the side because of – well you see,” He sighed, looking a bit resigned. “My other friends have, interests. But it shouldn’t be too out of place, considering how near Ikebukuro is to Akihabara.”

“Terrific. Tell them we’ll probably need it for the next two days, just to be safe. And don’t tell him a thing about all this, lie or whatever – I’m not exaggerating when I say that there are eyes everywhere. There might even be things watching now, so do watch your back when you head home.”

“Sure. It’ll be a hassle to convince him to let us use it, much less keep the other two’s attention away, but it should be fine.”

“If it’s any comfort, I’m willing to pay for any damages that might arrive plus a bonus fee. I’ll even have a contract written up, if you’d like.”

“Woah, that’s not necessary Izaya. Listen, I’m all in to help too. You guys, we’ve all shared some great times back then, and waiting like a sitting duck is just going to me regret things even more if we never find out what really happened.”

In a move that shocked both of us, Izaya put his pale thin hands over Kadota’s regarding him with such a warm affection that I selfishly wished he didn’t bring up the van in the first place.

“Thank you, that’d be lovely.”

Later, back at Izaya’s place, I asked him a question that’s been burning in my mind.

“Hey, Izaya.”

“Hmm?” he lilted.

“Back then, why was I the only one that you sent a handwritten letter to? You didn’t do that with Kadota, or anyone else that I know of. You know those things come in pretty late, and I know you knew my phone number. Just, why go through all that effort and formality for something that might not even have gone through? Did you ever get worried that I wouldn’t show up?”

He turned to me with a serious clumsiness I never expected, a light in his eyes that made him look oddly innocent in the moment. “I suppose,” Izaya starts softly. “I suppose I knew you would have arrived in the end. Actually, I was quite tempted to not write you anything at all, just to see if you would have still found a way to show up. I was very certain that you would, but I never got to test that theory out, did I? Besides, I thought you would appreciate the sentimentality.”

“So it was an experiment?”

“Hm hm. Sort of. And well, Shinra didn’t have that many friends anyway, so the more the merrier, right?”

“Then how come just now you didn’t ask Kadota to stay over yours today, instead of me. Since you’re clearly upset over god knows what.”

Izaya raised a brow. “I didn’t think Shizu-chan would have the foresight to book a hotel or anything. Besides, I already knew Dota-chin had friends in the area.”

“So the thing you said about being watched? What was that all about? What about the last time I was here?” I felt like I was finally able to bring out all my gripes with him.

Izaya smirked shrewdly. “That’s the thing. Here, look.”

I followed him to the desk in the middle of his living area, facing away from the wide window walls. For a man who was so cautious about being watched, he sure liked big windows.

On the desk, there were a few bug-sized black boxes, so small they could easily be missed even when left out in the open. In total, I counted around thirty of these things. “What are they?”

“They’re spy cams. These ones can be remotely operated using Wi-Fi.” He picked one of them up between his dainty fingers, eyeing it curiously, as if he hadn’t just had his privacy severely invaded for the past – who knows how long? I felt so nauseous I could barely see straight. “I have to give Namie some credit, some of these were truly put in some tight spaces. Did you know that these things can be set up anywhere there’s a hole the size of a pinhole?” My eyes almost bugged out of my head.

“How can you know you’ve found them all?”

“I’m very thorough. And I don’t keep superfluous items around that much, so it’s easier to tell when something’s off.” He said simply.

“Wait.” I almost couldn’t breathe. “that means, that night, they heard everything.” Izaya nodded.

“Yes, but it’s fine. I threw in some falsehoods to throw them off my case, and if anything, it probably just reassured them into thinking that looking into Shinra’s case was not my first priority. The kind of people after me don’t particularly care about some stupid gang riots occurring in the country.”

“Then when we…” I couldn’t finish it, as if verbalising it would crush the last pillar holding my heart up. I felt too fucking nauseous and _violated_. And I was upset – no, I was _furious_ that Izaya simply _wasn’t._ That he had so gladly went along with whatever sick fuck’s plans just to fuel his own ambition.

But that was just the kind of guy he was, and always has been.

Izaya tapped his foot impatiently, as if this was all so _boring_ to him, and I was somehow _overreacting_. “If you’re worried about the footage of you it’s fine, I managed to trace the IP Address back to the source. That’s how I got dear Nakura’s information, you know? You can calm down, it’s all deleted now and no copies were made, you don’t have to stress about yourself or your friends back home, they probably just think that you’re some sex friend.” I was offended and hurt that he could so easily brush off our encounter. Then, when I thought about it truthfully with myself, I realised that that was exactly what I was to him – something that could be so easily brushed off. A friend with benefits. The sharp stabbing feeling wound its way into my chest, never having quite left.

Even when I looked back at our first interaction, the look in his eyes that I had so foolishly mistook for fondness had glinted with more of a fascination than the soft tenderness that came with adoration.

Maybe those sleepless nights lost over him were worthless. Maybe everything had meant nothing after all.

 _“Izaya.”_ I snarled, I haven’t sounded like this in _years_. “What the _fuck_.”

He just looked too _amused_. Like it didn’t fucking matter what happened to me, or to him, or to anyone who got in the way of his goals. In my state of frenzy, I hadn’t realised that I had walked so close to him I could feel his hot breath touch and cool on my face. My fists wound their way into his collar as I dragged him close enough until our heads butted. He wasn’t fazed at all, in fact, he looked more manic than ever, the smile splitting his face in two never quite reaching his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Everything went according to plan.”

I couldn’t take it anymore as I flipped him over my shoulder and hastily made my way up his stairs. Fuck him if he could tell me all these things and not expect me to care, to not expect me to be angry, to not want to hurt him, to not fucking _hate_ him and his shroud of lies and – _whatever_ we had.

Even when he saw the clear and present wrath and promise of danger within me, he simply laughed, the sound like a ringing alarm throughout the hallway. I felt a deep, twisting uneasiness unfold inside me, but even then, I refused to listen to myself and carried on stomping towards his bedroom door. A place I had left feeling so peaceful and now return with a thirst for dark vengeance. Kicking his door open, I threw him back-first onto the bed.

“Shizu-chan! You broke my door off its hinges!” He still had the fucking gall to smirk. I didn’t care, I gathered his wrists in my hands and shoved them above his head as I stared him down, feeling an immense rush of power and superiority flood through me, knowing that at the very least he could not escape me this way.

“You’re sure there’s no more cameras left, right.” I said gravely.

“Would you believe me even if I was telling the truth?”

“No.”

“Then what would be the _point_.” He sighed, lamenting like a spoilt child. In retaliation, he shoved his knee upwards a bit too hard and fast to rub against by growing length through my rough jeans. I hissed in response as I pinned him down further into the soft expanse of mattress, sure to leave bruises on his wrists. “Hurry up and take your clothes off already, it’s getting _boring_ and you’re not usually this tiresome.”

“Grow up and be patient, you asshole.” My hands shifted so that only one of them was holding onto his wrists while the other tore open his cotton sleeved shirt – he was rich enough anyway, who cared if he lost another shirt?

Izaya shivered as he was no longer shielded from the cool night air. “Grow up?” His smile sharpened into a harsh smirk. “A hypocritical thing to come from someone who still insists on breaking down a lot of things into black or white colours, or getting so hung up over some high school fling. All these years later, and it seems that you still prefer me dressed in red than black.”

“You know, Izaya, I think you get off on being heartless.”

“You _just_ got that?”

Getting annoyed, I shoved two fingers in his mouth to shut him up. He choked and gagged briefly before quirking his lips upwards and biting down, sharp teeth barely breaking through skin. Even though I was mad, I still loved the way he parted his legs wider for me, how his silky tongue licked around my fingers so fervently.

In response I pressed harder down onto his parted thighs, eliciting a heavy moan from the both of us as I kept grinding down on him, still finger-fucking his mouth to coat it with a heavy layer of spit. After a while I got annoyed at the separation of skin and similarly tore off his jeans, still refusing to take off my clothes. He didn’t deserve that.

I quickly took my fingers out of his mouth with a wet _pop_ and flipped him over onto his stomach, with his ass in the air.

“Shizu-chan’s being so rough toda – _oh!”_ His eyes rolled to the back of his head as I shoved my fingers into his hole and proceeded to stretch him open with it forcefully. His soft moans filled the room and all of my thoughts.

“Put – put it in me already.” He panted out.

“No.” And his eyes flashed dangerously as he stared up at me.

“ _What_ ," He was really irritated by that point but it was _nothing_ compared to how I felt. "It’s not like I ever targeted you directly Shizu-chan, why do you have your panties in such a twist about this? Besides, it’s not like you could ever resist me either.” He let out a crazed laugh, still staring at me the whole time.

I quickly undid my zipper and pounded him roughly into his expensive silver sheets. Neither of us said a word as I held him down forcefully up until I finished inside him, spilling my load into him and biting down on his neck to mark him as _mine_ in some way.

“I wonder why you keep coming back to this.” He asked later, when I felt too listless and useless to be angry. Still clothed, I lay my head on his bare lap afterwards. In a moment of vulnerability, Izaya leant over me, cradling my head as he stared. His red eyes looked illuminating, the only light coming from the full moon outside, still watching.

“I don’t know. This feels important to me? But not in the ways that should be meaningful.”

“Oh, Shizuo…” He said, his forehead touching mine lightly.

“What are we doing to ourselves?” He whispers, it’s the clearest thing he has said in a while. The deep sadness within me only swelled deeper, as I’m sure it did in him, too.

Technically, Izaya had no reason to indulge me again, as I didn’t have to succumb to him. I thought of this as I stared at his sleeping face in the moonlight. Did he actually want me this time? Or was he just on some high and needed to be spoiled even more by someone he could trust would give him the attention he wanted? I just didn’t care anymore.

I held him tighter and closer to me, because that was all I could do.

…

Kadota came to pick us up at Izaya’s apartment the next day. The walk down to the ground floor was tense, or at least on my side. Izaya seemed fine to simply skip down to the lobby. I could tell Kadota could sense something was off from the way he eyed both of us, but I feel like he’s had that same look for years now.

If there was one thing that could break a tense moment, however, it was looking at the van Kadota brought, which caused Izaya to burst out laughing and me to momentarily forget my own deep-rooted issues and grin widely too.

Plastered to the side of the white van was some sort of pink magical girl with huge eyes and a really short skirt on it. Needless to say, I could see why he would have reservations.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” He scratched his hair through his beanie, which he had decided to bring for the occasion. As we loaded into the van, Izaya released a barrage of non-stop teasing, and in a similar fashion that happened the last time I was in a car with Izaya, where I mulled in the back. He looked like he was having a lot of fun, actually. When I was younger, it had never occurred to me that Izaya could possibly have more fun with other people.

Once we arrived, Izaya lectured Kadota on how to access and toggle between the cameras remotely from his laptop and sent a copy of the live floorplan to him. “Dota-chin can see it now, right?” He asked.

“Yep, right in front of me.” I didn’t realise he’d gotten one of those implants too.

“Good, the little blue dots right outside? Those are us. So you can keep track of where we’re at. We should be able to hear each other if you speak through this microphone here, don’t get too bored in here once we’re gone now.” Afterwards, Izaya changed into their lab coats, adorned with the yellow and green logo on the left side.

“You should be fine just wearing that suit, Shizu-chan.” He said, before attaching some hidden mics onto both of us. 

I was dripping with sweat the whole walk there, not sure how close I should stand next to him or how threatening I was supposed to be. Somehow, we managed to make it inside without any trouble at all and I wondered just how high up this Nakura person was to not be needed to question further.

The whole place was so white and grey, with hanging LED lights and a minimal amount of modern furniture, it was almost blinding just walking through the lobby area. Luckily there didn’t seem to be many people milling about, and even the ones that were seemed too caught up in their own work to focus on either of us.

_“Guys, from what I see their server room is on the tenth floor, and there’s only one person there from what I can see, but they’re all the way on the other side of the building, though getting through it seems like you need a security pass.”_

“Of course they wouldn’t make this _that_ easy. Shit, I probably have to convince someone to let us in or try bypassing security on my own.”

“I could just break it. Quietly.” I offered.

“You – actually,” he paused. “That might be able to work. I’m sure I can disable the alarm system for you.” He smiled.

He worked whatever witchcraft he was doing with the keypad and numbers, and as I watched the way his fingers skimmed so quickly across the various symbols and the intense focus behind his eyes, I thought about how surreal this whole experience was. How everything fell apart and is starting to piece back together slowly.

Izaya signalled to me that he was done, as the glowing blue light of the keypad died I quickly crushed it, using my hands to muffle the _crunching_ sounds as much as I could. The door opened.

“Well, physical locks are always going to be inferior with the right Shizu-chan for the job.” He commented, I shoved him into the room.

“Ugh, of course they wouldn’t have it in a hard drive somewhere. I need to download their files into my memory, this might take a while.”

I was finally able to sit and collect my thoughts as Izaya worked around the wires and blinking multicoloured lights that flooded the otherwise dark room.

“Hey, Izaya, why would they bother to keep all the evidence stacked against them anyway? You’d think they would just destroy it, or something.”

Izaya sighs, “Just because they’re an organisation who does a lot of shady things doesn’t mean they’d want to get rid of all the data they’ve been collecting over the years. Nebula is heavily involved in lots of human experimentation – “

_“They what – “_

“Human experimentation.” Izaya shrugged. “They’ve been doing it for years now.”

“Wait so you _knew_ about this years ago and, what? Just let it continue?”

“What else am I meant to do? I’d be putting myself at risk too, you know. How else did you think Shinra was able to design things so well suited to the human body?” His eyes narrowed into red slits, with the wires attached to his body and head, he’s looked the most inhuman I’ve ever seen him.

“Shinra – _he_ did it too?”

Izaya sneered as he glanced towards some imaginary progress bar that was probably floating around in his head, or some shit. A temporary illusion to this fucked up reality.

“Surprise surprise Shizu-chan! The big bad corporation has done big bad things, along with many others – this isn’t exactly a big issue for us right now.”

His ability to so easily shrug off the misfortune of others has never exactly bothered me this much up till this point.

_“Um – guys! You might want to keep it down right now. The person on the floor is making their way over!”_

“We can discuss more about your situational moral codes later. We need to lay low until we gather more evidence, and I don’t want your temper getting in the way of all of this.”

Later, when the light footsteps seem to die out into the distance, Izaya lets out a sigh of relief, unplugging all the wires previously attached. Some of the big rectangular boxes have monitors on them, and their light reflects from all directions, washing them both in blue.

“You never finished speaking.”

“And whose fault is that exactly?” I feel like I must have looked particularly upset, and maybe confused enough, because Izaya took one look at me and his face seemed to soften – or decide it wasn’t worth it being upset. He had these moments where he would do that, and I’m starting to wonder whether it has always been there or if it was just another trick of the eye.

“At least finish explaining to me why they would – assassinate Shinra, over this or something."

"It’s simple, they were unable to access certain resources we had until they caught wind of Shinra’s little project which just so happened to be the breakthrough they needed. Of course, I don’t think they actually factored or wanted Shinra’s death to play a part in any of this, because everyone knows – _should have known_ never to mess with Shinra.”

“’Shinra’s project’?” That sounded ominous.

“Something that could help them at the very least gain some sort of monopoly on the market space, probably. Nebula already has a vertically integrated business model, so I don’t know why they’re trying so hard with this. Honestly, they’re the worst types, trying to act as heroes when they’re just another capitalist company looking to make a lot of buck.” 

“What, like you?”

“Yes, like me, because clearly I’m the big bad evil.” He said, crossing his arms like all this was tedious.

“God, Izaya – sometimes I wondered how differently I would have been without you in it. I might have actually been able to live out a normal life.”

“Do you really believe that? That you could have _truly_ lived out a normal life and that everything in your life would be fixed if you just didn’t meet me?”

“I could have. I did, ten years of peace and suddenly my life is thrown up in chaos again.”

“Well, you sure don’t show it. Look how well peace turned out for you if you’re here now.”

I ran my hands through my hair.

“Well how would you know? For all that you say I don’t think you really understand what I’ve ever meant to you, what _love_ means, what normal means. Even when we were younger I just felt like I was taking advice from a cruel child, and now, I’m starting to think: what _do_ you know? If you ever knew anything.”

His face was pale with anger and a hint of shame.

“Do you just think everything was supposed to work out as kids?” He whisper-yelled. “Well of course it was! Everything works itself out when you’re little but as soon as you start growing up and, for most of us, start developing some maturity and critical thinking, the _actual_ stakes and important things in your life start appearing. It’s only when things work out at _this_ stage that it’s worth feeling _something_ over!”

In my anger, I was unable to stop my hand from crashing through one of the glass panes protecting those black monitors.

“What are you doing! Are you even taking this seriously at all? We could get found out if you keep going like this, and I’ve worked too hard to lose this right now.”

“All you want is to get this stupid fucking clip!”

“And _you_ don’t?”

“Of – of _course_ I do too! But I’m just trying to say you didn’t have to – to force yourself to sleep with me if that’s what you think it takes for you to trick some creeps watching you or something! You coulda just kicked me out, or explained before you _left._ I would have liked that more than feeling so fucking dumb all this time.”

“Oh,” Izaya says flatly. “You’re still caught up in _that_ night.”

“So you didn’t forget.”

Izaya puts his delicate hands on his hips. And they were delicate, I felt them myself. “Really, Shizu-chan. Even after going to university it’s like you never matured. Didn’t I already say last night? Stupid flings happen.”

_“It wasn’t stupid.”_

“Yes, it was.” Izaya sighs, emphatic and pronounced, like he’s dealing with a particularly stubborn child. It made my skin crawl even more. “Shizu-chan, you’re just so…overly emotional. I’d say you’re closer to an android than a human, or something, it’s like you were only ever programmed to think and act through your emotions – but that’s just contradictory.”

Stop. I didn’t want to hear this anymore. I gripped the edge of a metal cabinet so hard until it dented and started to bend and curl, buckling under the years’ worth of pressure. I could feel parts of it start to rip away, the sound screeching and groaning loudly. My body was moving on its own, just as It always did, without control, like some rogue machine. Soon, I was prepared, bracing the broken strip of metal over my shoulder like a baseball bat, and then I realised I was poised to swing. All I could think of was how I really didn’t want to buy a new suit for another funeral. But it would be too late, too late, too late. And it would be terrifying, his head would come flying off, dented in, bruised up and _stop, stop, **stop please –**_

“Heiwajima Shizuo.” And it was _that_ voice that rang through my head, that voice that I used to hear when he was being firm with his sisters, and it was that appeal to his humanity that barely stopped the metal just before it hit the side of his head. He hadn’t moved an inch. And I was so thankful, so worried, so _frustrated_ that I cared even a little, much less a lot.

“I don’t know what sort of rose-tinted world you’re living in,” He lifted a finger to push away the very deadly piece of offending metal. “But it would serve you well to remember this: That night has _never_ , and _will never_ mean anything to me. So wake up and smell the coffee, there’s more important things I have to deal with than you, especially after this.” He stalked away from my hunched over form, and I dropped the heavy metal to the floor, where it landed with the worst _clang_ I have ever heard in my life.

And to rub salt against my wound, he stopped in his tracks, the _squeak_ of his polished shoes resounding around the room.

“By the way, the whole time, I was thinking of him.”

“Liar.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” That wasn’t true. Izaya had been a prolific liar as a kid. And he grew to be an adult who knew how to disguise his lies as truths.

 _“Um…sorry, guys. You back on or?”_ A sharp cough in my ear.

I forgot that Kadota was able to hear everything.

“It’s fine, Dota-chin. We’ve got everything we need and we’re gonna be heading – “

“ _Wait Izaya there’s – “_

Before he could finish, there was a disruption at the door and there stood someone I would have never expected to be involved in all of this.

“Vorona?”

“Shizuo-senpai.”

“ _You_.” Izaya said.

“Shizuo-senpai has never been the best at keeping quiet.” Izaya eyed me with a level of frustration I didn’t know he was capable of.

“So, you were his little girlfriend I was told of? Pathetic, but I always did think that Shizu-chan had poor taste in lovers.”

“What the fuck? How did you know I had a girlfriend at work? And Vorona, what the _fuck_ are you doing all the way in Ikebukuro.”

“I am to obtain the thing he acquires, and I would encourage Orihara-san to turn it over or face a humiliating defeat.”

"Can I get an explanation to any of this right now?" I yelled, and in my confusion as everything around me spiralled out of control, I hadn't realised Izaya had drawn a weapon until something sharp and silver glinted past my head at Vorona. In a few tense moments I broke out into a cold sweat, reaching out in an attempt to deflect it. Luckily, she managed to dodge it in a feat of great athleticism. 

But when Vorona whipped out her own knife in response, I decided one thing: _Fuck, I am so done with all of this._

As luck would have it an alarm rang throughout the whole building by that point, and I could see that whatever this was it could not carry on any further. So I quickly grabbed them both by their waists, which undoubtedly surprised them both, as I ran down the hallway - hopefully Izaya had gotten everything he needed by then. I ran with only a single minded objective to get back into the van and hopefully suss out everything from both of them, so much so that I barely registered Izaya's attempts to get out of my hold.

It was then I heard Kadota's voice. 

_"Ok whatever you guys are doing you seriously need to get out of there quick. There's a bunch of armed guys around your location and some seriously weird shit is going on outside you guys - there's a lot of people in yellow crowding around - "_

Luckily or unluckily enough, a sudden and loud explosion was set off by the side of the building which momentarily caused a sharp ringing in my ear and for the two people in my arms to groan loudly. But at the very least it seemed to cause everyone inside to evacuate so I didn't look too out of place in the flurry of activity around me.

When we made it back outdoors I rushed into the van, barely realising I was panting harshly.

“ _Guys,_ what just happened?” Kadota yelled, his eyes wide and filled with a frantic energy that was unlike his usual calm self.

“Just drive!” I yelled as I set both of them down.

“Why is _she_ with us, you should have just dropped her.” Izaya seethed.

“I have been ordered to obtain the information you currently have, you and Nebula are veering to a dangerous territory that my employers are determined to spot.”

“Oh and I’ll _definitely_ hand it over to you after you said that.”

“Your compliance in this matter is not necessary. If not for Shizuo-senpai I assure you I would have already taken you down and acquired it.”

“Please, I’m not defenceless on my own, if just now was any indication. And in case you haven’t noticed, Shizu-chan is on _my_ side here – “

 _"Both of you shut the fuck up.”_ I yelled, enraged about everything unfolding before me and determined to get answers. At the very least, it seems like Izaya hadn’t planned any of this.

“Vorona. What the fuck?” Upon seeing my expression, she seemed to relent just a bit.

“The reason I was sent to Nara was to keep a close eye on Shizuo-senpai after Nebula found many files related to him on Orihara’s hard drive.” I looked to Izaya. He shrugged.

“What? I keep tabs on everyone, don’t think you’re special.”

“I haven’t seen you in _years._ Whatever, fine, so you wanted to fuck with me too, _hah_?”

“Negative. I was merely supposed to report on my findings. Any feelings I developed for Shizuo-senpai was unintentional, but something to which I do not regret.”

“ _You._ Shut up.”

“Um, guys – I only heard up to when you guys were fighting. Mind getting me in the loop here?”

As I recounted the events to Kadota, because it was clear both Izaya and Vorona were determined to stew in silence, more out of obligation on Vorona's part, Izaya looked into the files we gathered.

The more he scrolled through the paler he got, until it almost felt like he shut down completely, and I was hit with a sense of deja-vu at how it all started.

...

> **CONFIDENTIAL **– PROJECT C** **< 0101_0011> ****:** **REPORT UPDAT** E _  
> _Title:** Ongoing Investigation on the limits of Artificial Intelligence ** _  
> _**Kishitani Shinra **  
> **4 May 2011 ** _  
> _** **Document Number:** CSVX-003-4942813-89284-WWNT
> 
> A report submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for Course BA139, Department of Technology, Orihara Bio-Chem Resource, Inc.
> 
> **Project Period:** August 1st 2005 to February 28th 2011
> 
> **Brief: ** _  
> _****The following is a comprehensive report initially fielded by Doctor Kishitani Shingen (64), former professor in the Department of Bioengineering in the University of Tokyo in 1987, which took place over a two-year period before losing all contact with the unknown entity. Eventually, it was taken over by his son and assistant, Kishitani Shinra (27) after having broken through since the age of thirteen, and maintained contact with the unknown entity until present day. The eleven documents related to the previous interviews with Kishitani can be found using application number CSVX-003-4942813-89284-WWNT [Update: Documents 8 to 11 are missing.]
> 
> **Abstract: ** _  
> _****First recording of this entity was examined in Galway, on the West coast of Ireland (Appendix 3). From observation it appears that this entity is akin to a data system that is able to access any and all locations online. It was observed that this entity is able to access multiple locations at once although currently prefers allocating most of its resources with Kishitani, and has also been observed expressing information akin to emotion (Appendix 7). These show characteristics of an intelligent system unlike any other. Further study on is required to understand the mechanisms and to evaluate present-day impacts on society at large. This report aims to provide details of the background and study of this widespread entity and ultimately, determine whether transferring such a wide database of information into a corporeal body is possible.
> 
> **Introduction: ** _  
> _****The development of artificial intelligence over the years have been split into two main groups: Implants, which have been briefly explored in the realm of medical science. And Androids, which are fully functioning and autonomous individuals whose primary activities stem from machine activity. Of which there are four types (Table 3). The current investigation on C <0101_0011> is unique in that it exhibits behaviours aligning with all four quadrants, and thus attempts to classify it have wildly fluctuated. This is the third ongoing rendition of this investigation. All previous attempts have been met with failure, having been too simple and straightforward in their initial design. However - 
> 
> -
> 
> _Page 1 of 72_
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Kishitani’s Private Entries**
> 
> Dated: 1998 – 2011
> 
> [Update: Entries 895, 980 and 1450 are missing.]
> 
> _LOG #1 – 1 st March 1998:_
> 
> _It worked! I’ve finally contacted this unknown being that I have been enraptured with for so many years! My father first mentioned about its presence in a strange encounter several years back in his research days in Ireland, having maintained consistent contact for two years before it vanished. I used to help father with his attempts at reconciliation, and have gotten brief glimpses as to what it was like, but it’s never turned out like this! It happened at home when I was setting up my MSX, I noticed a strange series of patterns and behaviours...up till which I managed to converse with it using some hexadecimal numbering and a series of binary code._
> 
> _This is truly amazing!_
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #2 – 3 rd March 1998_
> 
> _She says she’s a her! That’s so interesting, who knew the first girl I would actually want to talk to would be amorphous. Well, at least Orihara-kun will have to eat his words about how no girl would ever want to have sustained contact with me._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #8 – 20 th April 1998_
> 
> _Yesterday she said my name! Well…said may be the wrong term, but she took the time to type it all out in a binary code! I gushed about it so much and even took a picture:_
> 
> [See attached image]
> 
> _I could have sworn she appeared flustered afterwards…some of the binary she typed was all over the place. We’ve been communicating non-stop for the past 20 days. I'm still trying to see if there's a way I can get here to change to kanji but that's proving more difficult than initially thought. I have still yet to tell father, and when asked she doesn’t seem too comfortable about discussing the two years in which she had maintained constant contact with him. I have a suspicion father’s methods were…unorthodox, to say the least. She probably hates him a lot! I don’t blame her – I would totally_ not _want to spend any extended time with him, either._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #29 – 4 th May 1998:_
> 
> _As of right now her motivations remain unclear, but I know that she is able to trust only me. When Izaya or Shizuo are around she seems to hide away more or be shyer – it’s really cute! I wanna spend more time with her, it’s been really enlightening! I've managed to keep a bit of her on my phone so we can chat constantly - but it's not like the full experience. Curse these limited devices!_
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #115 – 1 st December 1998_
> 
> _I think I’m in love._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #180 – 31 st January 1999_
> 
> _Izaya doesn’t seem to believe that she exists, though he grew a bit interested in the potential of artificial intelligence. I have talked to him extensively about this field, and I’m certain that this is where I want to be working in. Father doesn’t seem too excited about the idea, though. He says I’d do much better as a doctor, but it’s not like I won’t have to explore the area of surgery if I want to get her a proper body! I think he’s always wanted me to be a bit of a freak like him, but when presented with the fact that I already am, he seems a bit more hesitant. Could it be remorse? I notice it’s similar to the way Izaya gets when he talks about his sisters._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #544 – 1 st December 1999_
> 
> _I’m in love._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #589 – 8 th February 2000:_
> 
> _Izaya and I have been discussing this business idea more, lately. Over the years I’ve been trying to find ways for her to manifest her consciousness across different devices, and have been making different models, but they don’t seem to work that well. However, Izaya thinks there’s potential there. I told him I’d only ever partner with him if he took credit for all of the things I made though, or at least get the burden off of me - I don’t want anyone else finding out about my girl! Oh, but I haven’t told him yet that father wants me to go study as a doctor in Ireland though…oh well. Maybe it's best he doesn't know - he's been trying to get a bit close lately, it's kind of bothersome._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #1358 – 28 th July 2003:_
> 
> _I have tried and failed so many times to attain a body for her. It seems that no matter what she always ends up overheating the system or otherwise come in scattered portions. Her influence is truly everywhere, having manifested itself into every corner of the internet…this is the second rendition of the project…please let it work well! She sounds excited by the prospect! If not, I have to find some other way to be with her – no matter what._
> 
> _As of right now she is only able to trust me, whenever the other lab technicians are in the room there is absolutely zero trace of her. I should find a way to keep more people out. I notice people don’t really like to mess with Izaya much – I could probably use that as an excuse. People don’t like Izaya getting mad at them, after all. Lately, he’s been a bit more antsy and flustered about being in the same room as me ever since that night._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #2890 – 30 th September 2011:_
> 
> _Well…after many long years spent on this third rendition, it seems like it is truly impossible to gain her a corporeal body…She has alerted me that I'm being watched so it feels like I'm running out of time...And there’s been growing uncertainty and fear of AI, and all the terror they can bring, but it’s ridiculous! If anything, I say that they’re as dangerous a threat to humanity as humans are themselves. My darling is simply a tragic but brilliant spawn of beauty that is now suffering from humanity’s inability to accept and comprehend that which they do not know._
> 
> _One day, I hope to be with her, and I have already made plans in that regard fails. I want to keep her company for the rest of our lives. She’s so lonely._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _LOG #2912 – 8 th October 2011:_
> 
> _She is wonderful, she is pure, and she is the only truth I have ever known in this world –_
> 
> _She is Celty._

…

Shinra was dead – but only in the physical sense. In his last moments he had transferred his conscience to be with his beloved. Prior to his death, he had spent _years_ chatting with a unique online sentience. This was an anomaly algorithm that had been slowly building since the genesis of the internet, a piece broken off from some sort of glitch and started developing itself. Or at least, that’s what I was told. Apparently, it started right after middle school and at the beginning of high school. I don’t think I ever noticed anything that different about him from childhood to teenager hood, having been too caught up in my own storm back then – but Izaya must have. Shinra had either gone crazy and gotten obsessed with it – or fallen in love. Or both. I’m starting to notice there’s always been a very blurred line between the two emotions.

He spent years working on her development, most of the time under the guise of one of his smaller projects. His main aim was getting her a fully functioning human body, so that they could be together. But at some point, he must have realised he was being targeted. I wasn’t surprised, Shinra always knew more than he cared to. Apparently, some spy by the name of Tsukumoya had caught whiff of Shinra’s plans and alerted Nebula.

Something in Izaya must have shattered when he read all this, as if the pieces of information floating about were, for the first time, not aligning themselves together in his head. Vorona had been hired by some other third party as a whistle blower to expose the nefarious activities behind Nebula and possibly Izaya and Shinra’s own company, but my presence managed to convince her not to release the files on the more nefarious affairs that Shinra and Izaya were behind. Kadota paled quite a lot at all the details, but it was probably that fear or just wanting to be kept out of the situation that kept him quiet about it. Since Izaya very much had the means to ruin anyone’s life. Though I genuinely didn’t believe he would have gone that far, he still looked very shaken, barely keeping himself together the way back.

In the end, Izaya and Vorona reached a tentative agreement to take down Nebula together, only releasing those files about them and, per Vorona’s insistence, Shinra’s catalogue of his and Celty’s development. The media had, expectedly, swarmed onto it all like moths to a flame, spreading the story far and wide. Though it didn’t exactly resolve anything. At the end of the day, it was just another propaganda or takedown piece that people could use to further push their tribalism on these matters. More importantly, to Izaya at least, he managed to use it to take down Nebula entirely, eating out the competition and essentially creating his own monopoly in the market. He kept himself busy to hide how lifeless he was. I think he really needed to destroy something, I could relate to that.

With how desperately Izaya was pouring himself into his work for some kind of attention, I stayed close by him, and he let me. I knew on some level that he didn’t deserve it after everything he’d done to me; that he didn’t deserve my attention, my care, but he just looked so torn apart: Like if anyone else left him he might well and truly go mad.

In the few weeks to come, I was diligent in keeping Tom updated with what I was doing, at least, as he was extremely distressed by me and Vorona both leaving around the same time. I think he thought we had eloped together and neglected to tell him, or something. I didn’t tell him about Vorona’s reasons, but I’m pretty sure he understood, for a very long time, that that place was never really a good fit for both of us. I promised that I would still keep in contact with him, but I could already feel my waning interest settling.

Izaya has been living alone since the end of high school, likely with the exception of a few rare visits from Shinra here and there, and he’s probably never given much thought to the vulnerability of feeling lonely.

“Even now, people praise me for whatever thing I’m putting out, but really, I’m just the poster boy taking credit for everything he did. I feel like such a fraud.” Izaya revealed to me one night, as we both lay in bed. “Well, it’s not like Shinra had a problem with that arrangement, quite the opposite, he was the one he pushed for it in the first place – but that makes it worse somehow, doesn’t it? Considering what we know. I’ve always known he was obsessed with his work, but not like that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You still thought of them, coded a lot of it yourself and managed everything else. Shinra just liked making stuff and poking around in people’s bodies.” Izaya giggled a bit as we settled back into silence.

“Sometimes, I’m even afraid of closing my eyes when I go to sleep. Behind my eyes all I can see is this darkness. And I feel like this is all I ever will be. Like I’m just looking inward at myself, and there isn’t a more terrifying thing than finding nothing.”

I gently rubbed his shoulders. “I know what you mean. I always feel like there’s nothing more to me than what I’ve already done.” I admitted, leaning down and breathing heavily into his shoulder. The thought that my actions is all I ever will be has scared me more times than I care to admit.

“What so great happiness as to be beloved, and to know we deserve to be beloved? What so great misery as to be hated, and to know that we deserve to be hated, right?” Izaya sighs. “If only we could get out of our own grief as one gets out of the city, so many of our problems could be avoided.” He laments.

“I don’t know about that. I feel like, no matter where I go, I’ll always be this same messed up freak. Because it’s not the environment around me that was ever the problem. It was always me.”

“Shizu-chan is so self-deprecating. It’s impossible to deal with sometimes.”

 _“Oi.”_ I heard Izaya giggle and then sigh, and both sounds broke my heart in different ways.

“I was fine with him not loving me, you know? I thought I could carry on like that, it didn’t matter, I didn’t _need_ him to reciprocate my love. I could be above that, better than that, like some sort of martyr. I set myself up for all this hurt. Truth is, I just didn’t want to get rejected, or accept that I was being rejected, because then I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to see him. I just – I know he _knew,” How much I loved him_. Went unsaid between the both of us. _“_ that was never the problem”. Izaya sobbed for the second time in his life, in the winter cold. 

I knew now to the extent to which Izaya’s feelings for Shinra went. It had hurt, to think that all that time we spent together he was just using me as a replacement of some sort, for when Shinra was too busy with his little project, cooped up at home, in the lab, or anywhere else, to bother talking to Izaya. On our worst days, it got to the point where I did consider punching his lights out, or leaving just to watch him suffer and break. But I understood, too, how unbearable the pain must have been. He was chasing after someone far beyond the reach of his outstretched palms, always close, always untouchable, all his life. At least now I know for certain, that he needed me, as much as I always needed him.

It was hard, staying away for so long during those ten years after having known what _this_ felt like, and it hurt, and it angered and it ruined me in some way. On my worst days it had felt like a phantom limb. And I thought about how easy it all was, too. For us to get back in an easy sync of comfortable bickering and miscommunication after ten years of separation. There was still so much that needed to be said but this time, I knew for certain that there would be a next day.

…

Five years later, I ran into Kadota at the bar.

“We never did go out for those drinks, did we?” Kadota said.

“I guess not.”

After the events of that day I’m sure he viewed Izaya with a certain amount of apprehension and disdain for what he perceived as my endorsement of his actions.

“You,” Kadota said, as we both gulped down our drinks. “Are obsessed with him,” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but a statement.

“Yeah, I know.” I scoffed, I’ve known this all my life.

Kadota shook his head solemnly. “I’ve always been tentative about getting close to Izaya. He may be surprisingly loyal to those who offer him kindness but Shizuo, Izaya’s like – a messed up robot. You know, he’s cold and calculating and he’ll stop at nothing to achieve what he wants. He’s dangerous. And, even a guy like you could do a lot better. I’m sure there are a lot of girls who would appreciate you.”

“Kadota, I’ve known all of this for years, what’s the point in saying it now? We’re both fucked up and crazy, so what? I just know what it feels like to not be with him, and I never want to go through that again. That’s all. Who cares if it’s not ‘right’.”

Kadota rolled his eyes. I was annoyed by his holier than thou attitude towards this whole thing, considering Izaya has looked into him and his friends, and I know that they are far from saints.

“I’ve seen what obsession looked like ever since I’ve known you three. Seriously. Shizuo, get over him, it’s not good for you. Or him. That’s all I can say. I mean, he’s not this larger than life figure anymore, you know everything, we know everything – at the end of the day, he’s just another messed up part of society’s larger issues.”

“Izaya was always messed up, even before all of this.” I probably looked very obviously irritated and impatient to go home, because he slammed his drink down and got ready to leave.

“And I see he’s gotten what he wanted regardless.” Kadota said, already walking away. “I guess we always knew that he would.”

I didn’t say anything in response, but all the way home I composed a series of angry rebuttals. None of them really worked without me yelling them to him. We were both living with guilt, shame, and grief, it was impossible to try to articulate to outsiders, and they were all outsiders, even him.

“I saw Kadota today,” I said when I was lying with Izaya that night, watching some late-show documentary about whales. I noticed that he was wearing my blue t-shirt.

“Kadota?” Izaya said, already beginning to doze on my chest.

“From school,” I said, as if he would not remember him from that week at the building. Or the funeral. We both woke with nightmares regularly, remembering those places.

“Oh,” Izaya said, eyes closed and clutching my sleeves tightly as if I could run away at any moment. “Yes – him.”

They were all reduced to that, a ‘him’ that Izaya or I muttered about occasionally. And that was all they ever really were, some person we met by chance that never stayed too long for either of us to get attached to because we were so clearly drowning in the other. I reached around to grab him, and we were both clinging to each other so tightly and dearly because we were afraid we might be monsters. I thought sometimes that we must be, and that we had always been: we were ruthless in our eventual resolve to not be alone anymore.

“You know,” Izaya rasped, still clutching me tightly as he wrapped his right leg around my waist. He brought a hand up to my cheek and caressed it lovingly. “That time you were changing in that dingy, old hotel room, all I could see were your strong muscles rippling through your shirt. And, the only thing I was thinking about was how those arms would feel holding me down again and fucking me on the hotel bed wearing your shirt.”

“Oh, fuck Izaya, yeah, let’s – let’s do that.” I moaned, reaching around his waist to pull his body down closer to mine.

“Yes,” He whimpered, digging his nails into my back. “I would have loved that.”

“Even back then?”

“Ever since back then I – Shinra,” He gulped, hesitant to bring him up even now. I slowed down my movements, but still held him close. “I knew I could never, he was too far into his own world, and it was something no one but him could ever be in. Despite how much I wanted to break in. There was no point, I was just firmly in denial about that.”

I knew to be wary of what Izaya said, but being with Izaya in these five years have made me more perceptive to his tells. I could never imagine that I will ever know him completely, but right now I see this different man and all I ever want is to figure him out, and in doing so figure myself out.

“But forget all that right now.” Izaya said, gently guiding my face with his hands. “That’s all in the past, and so is he. Right now, it’s just you and I for a while, and that’s all I want.”

“Izaya – “

“Never mind, shhhh.” He kissed me slowly, his tongue sneaking out to caress my lower lip, then to press against mine when I opened my mouth, too. I let go of his shirt and slid my arms around him to flip our positions. Not willing to be apart for too long, I reached out to his waist to pull him closer until we were flush against one another again. Where my body was on top of his and trying to push him further into the couch, grinding against each other for more contact because it never felt like enough. In the midst of this I heard him saying, or maybe tasted it: _I am a real person, remember?_ I did remember. I tried to tell him so as I ran my hands over his body, under the t-shirt he had taken from me to pinch his tender nipples as he ran his hands through my sweat-matted hair and rubbed his knee against the bulge of my erection. Izaya quickly climbed into my lap, straddling me, and leaned down to kiss my neck, sucking and nipping in spots, making me throw my head back and moan. We should have done this on his expensive desk, I thought, and when Izaya plunged his hands down my pants, I thought: fuck it, we are doing it there. This was magic, because between the two of us we had the power to make all that happened irrelevant, and we had done it. Nothing mattered, only that I could keep touching him, kissing him. That I could keep him. I pushed all other thoughts away as I tore his shirt off.

“On – the bed,” He said, panting. “Please, I want to be on my back.” And fuck, how could I refuse when he was begging?

I carried him all the way up to bed, nearly tripping twice while mouthing at his neck. For a moment, I felt like I had that night, minus the tears and the pain, or maybe my natural euphoria actually approached that level of muted desire. I forced myself to calm down, and when I’d laid him on the bed I kissed him all over his chest, sucked at his nipples, tickled my fingers into his shallow belly button. Izaya was crying a little, but also smiling, and I knew that smile, had known it since I was ten years old: it was real.

On occasion, I would wake up from the ether and feel that creeping feeling of being watched again. I imagined that it was Shinra, but I knew it wasn’t – not really. I had picked his bones from his dense ashes myself, after all. Still, I ran around the apartment looking, as if trying to catch an afterimage of his ghost. He was nowhere to be found. Sometimes, I felt that there were two presences, and I was pretty sure that was who his permanent other was. It felt warmer when they were there, that other. I hoped they were happy. I envied him a bit, that he could be watching us and yet not be seen, spending an eternity in quiet with the being so sacred to him that he was willing to give up everything. But the more I thought about it, the less it mattered to me. Its romanticised headlines had lost its lustre, and for once I was left grateful for my own physical abilities. I loved the feeling of Izaya in my arms, spine a curl against the line of my stomach, his same boyish hair nestled under my chin, looking the most serene I have ever seen him. Occasionally I would still get chills, and that sinking feeling of dread, but when I did I curled tighter into him and I never minded as much. I was certain, absolutely so, that Shinra could never feel that same way.

And so Izaya and I went on, living together against the current, struggling not to be pushed back into the past. There was something victorious I felt about having Izaya, who, for a very long time had felt like a fluttering of the wind: intangible and conspicuous, always hiding in plain sight. I hoped he would remain this way. That’s the best thing some people can be in this world – obscure, there, and yet so far away.

Angry and always in love with him, I was tremendously sorry but triumphant I had won this battle that had been patiently raging on for years.

**Author's Note:**

> …Or the story in which I accidentally made Shizuo the world’s biggest simp. Sorry I didn’t use the trademark ‘flea’ nickname at all throughout the story – I just find it really funny that Shizuo calls Izaya a beansprout on occasion in canon. 
> 
> Any company names mentioned are just for the story and not reflective of it IRL, I just can’t come up with names lol. I tried to do research and some of my own experiences on the other areas of this fic, like with the funeral, but it’s not entirely accurate, pls do not come to fanfiction to look for accurate information about anything. 
> 
> For real though, thank you for making it to the end! I wrote this fic while in a turbulent period of time. This story is something I have thought about two years ago, just imagining what it would be like if they were friends with a bit of a futuristic background I guess. I tried my hardest here to depict what I thought could be a natural progression if they were to meet younger and become friends, though I feel inevitably I would mess it up somehow. I’m still not sold on the way I made out certain characters, Shizuo in particular I go back and forth on in his portrayal of this story. Izaya too feels jarring in some places.
> 
> However, I feel like the lack of Celty and Tom in Shizuo's developing years would majorly impact his take on his morality and maybe some attachment issues, particularly with all the terrible and maybe some not-so-terrible impacts Izaya would have on Shizuo. Either way I somehow think this is the most and least twisted version of them I have come up with so far. But seriously I'm kinda just glad I finished this, I've been wanting to get it out of my system for a while now, and I was really running out of steam towards the end.
> 
> As for Izaya’s perspective it’s really all up to interpretation whether he’s more in love with Shinra or Shizuo by the end, but it would be nice to keep in mind that Shizuo has always been an unreliable narrator, I would say up until the last part of the story. So make with that fact as you will. 
> 
> Song Mentioned: El Paso by Marty Robbins
> 
> "Man: a being in search of meaning." – Plato  
> "Everything flows, and nothing abides, everything gives way, and nothing stays fixed." - Heraclitus  
> "Since we cannot change reality, let us change the eyes which see reality." - Nikos Kazantzakis
> 
> Izaya’s line in the middle of the story is a mixture of these three quote. I thought it was fitting in the context of the situation for him to create his own meaning and relate it to Shizuo.
> 
> Feedback is always welcome!


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